One More Trigger
by ack1308
Summary: Taylor Hebert triggers in the locker, and the story begins. But what if someone else had a trigger of their own, years earlier? How would the story change?
1. Chapter 1

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part One: The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same

* * *

Emma blinked tears out of her eyes, looked for an escape, an answer.

And she saw a figure crouched on top of her father's car, dressed in black, with a hood and a cape that fluttered out of sync with the warm sea breeze that flowed from the general direction of the beach. She could see the whites of the girl's eyes through the eyeholes of what looked like a metal hockey mask.

_Help me_.

The dark figure didn't move.

Lao, the one eyed man, reversed the knife in his hands and handed it to the girl with the eye shadow. The girl, for her part, dragged the knife's point over Emma's eyelid, a feather touch.

"Pick," the girl said. "No, wait…"

She shoved the handful of hair she'd cut away into Emma's mouth. "Eat it, _then_ pick."

Emma had a mouthful of her own hair, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. The dark figure, watching, made no move to help her.

She could hear her father screaming. He was a big man, powerful, but he was no fighter. He couldn't do anything to help her.

_I'm going to die here._

* * *

Reality went away.

She floated in space. Planets and stars glittered in the void around her. Great creatures – whales? Worms? Fish of some indescribable genus? – swam through space, writhing and twisting about one another. Fragments, shards, _something_, drifted away from them.

* * *

She jerked back to reality. A shallow cut on her cheek stung.

"Hey, ginger bitch, don't you go away on us! You still gotta pick!"

Her mouth was full of hair.

_My hair._

She liked her hair a lot. It was long, and wavy, and showed up well in her modelling portfolio. It had character. It was one of her best features, really.

And this gang _bitch_ just cut some of it off, and shoved it in her mouth.

She felt herself getting angry. And something awoke inside of her.

* * *

The first indications that the ABB thugs got that something was wrong was when her hair began to extend in all directions, growing at an impossible rate. The second was when said hair, dividing into what could easily be called tendrils or tentacles, wrapped around those holding her down, and _threw_ them away from her.

She got to her feet, feeling a newfound energy coursing down her limbs, running through her hair. She looked at the hair; it was at least ten feet long, waving like seaweed underwater, and there were sparks, lines, crackles of energy running through it.

The girl with the knife got up. Emma didn't even bother moving; three tendrils lashed out, caught her about the throat, the wrists. They pulled her arms out straight, lifted her until she was on her toes. And then power crackled down the lengths of hair, and the girl convulsed, dropping the knife.

Emma didn't want to kill her, so she cut the power, letting the girl hang there, unconscious. She looked around, spitting out the hair in her mouth.

The ABB were either down and unconscious, or up and running away. Dealing with a cape was the last thing they wanted to do.

Emma dropped the girl, flicked up the knife with a tendril of hair, and threw it hard at the wall. It stuck, quivering, in the middle of an ABB tag.

"Holy shit, that was awesome!"

She whirled, her hair-tentacles coming up in a defensive position. It was the girl in the dark cape and hockey mask.

"Shit, girl, you really screwed them up!" said the girl, jumping down from the roof of the car.

In the next instant, Emma had her spreadeagled on the hood of the car with a tendril at each wrist, one at the throat, and one for each ankle, for good measure.

"You goddamn f**king _bitch,"_ she hissed. "You could have saved me at any time. You stood there and watched them. You were going to let them cut my eye out, or my ears off, or rape me, or whatever they wanted to do. And you didn't do a goddamn _thing."_

"Hey, hey, go easy," said the girl. She shimmered slightly, went to pull free, then jerked back to solidity when something sparked in Emma's hair. "Holy f**k! That's live current! What the f**k?"

Emma picked her up from the car, and then slammed her down again with a hollow booming noise; the wind went out of her with a _whoosh_. "Why the hell didn't you help me?" she snarled.

"Hey, go easy! I wanted to see who you were, that's all!"

The statement made no sense at all to Emma. "Who I was? Who the hell did you _think_ I was?"

"Predator or prey," said the girl simply. "And shit, you're obviously a predator."

The car door opened, and her father got out.

"Emma?" he said, as if not quite sure if he was addressing his daughter.

"I'm okay, Dad," she said, answering the unspoken question. "This _bitch_, however ... was going to let them do whatever they wanted. Unless I fought back, or something, I guess."

"Well, well, well," he said, recovering quickly. "You're some kind of cape, I take it."

"F**k you," she said, struggling to get out of the bonds. Emma let her have a trickle of power. "Hey, f**k, that hurts!"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute ..." said Emma, looking into the middle distance. Then she looked down at the girl. "Nope, still don't care."

Reaching forward, her father plucked the mask from the girl's face. She opened her eyes wide in outrage, which turned to outright fear when he snapped a photo with his phone.

"Jesus f**k, what the f**k are you doing?" she screamed. He dropped the mask carelessly back on her chest.

"If I ever see you in the news for any reason," he said coldly, "I _will_ publish your face, and what you did here tonight – or rather, what you _didn't_ do. My advice? Give up the mask. Because you think my daughter's scary? I'm a lawyer. I can _bury_ you."

The girl lay quiet, unresisting. She was dark-skinned, attractive, with black hair under her hood. But Emma sensed that she wasn't as beaten as she looked. When next she spoke, she addressed Emma.

"Hey, Emma, isn't it? Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but seriously, we can –"

"We can do nothing," said Emma bluntly. "I never want to see you again." She picked up the mask with a small tendril, flicked it high in the air to land, clattering, on a nearby rooftop. "Dad, get in the car."

He got in the car. She let the girl go. "Fetch," she said.

"Seriously, Emma, we could make a great team –"

"Still not caring," said Emma, and leaned in the window. "Back up a bit, Dad."

Alan Barnes put the car in reverse, and moved back several yards. He ran over the hand of an unconscious ABB thug, but didn't particularly care.

Emma let her hair tentacles settle on the dumpster, and braced herself, heaving backward. It grated toward her, one end swinging around like a large gate. Small pieces of rubble sat beyond it; those she simply threw out of the way.

It was incredible. The girl was _still_ there.

Emma walked toward her. "Go away. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear from you."

"But you're so f**king badass. You just _owned_ these guys. We could kick serious ass together." She paused. "Look, my name's Sophia, okay?"

Emma shook her head. "I don't want to know you. I'm not looking to kick anyone's ass. I just want to go home and have a long hot bath. Goodbye."

She got in the car. After a moment, she reached down to find the phone she had dropped. It read 911, but she had not pressed the call button. "Drive, Dad. Please. Get us away from here." As she slumped in the seat, her hair tendrils retracted, until the hair was just ordinary length.

He drove.

* * *

"Taylor got back from camp this morning," her mother said.

Emma paused. "Yeah?"

"She might stop by."

"Excellent!"

Emma couldn't resist hurrying a little as she collected her dishes and rinsed them in the sink.

"If she comes by when you're not here-"

"I'll call her back," Emma said. "Don't worry about it."

She made her way to the front hall, stopped by the mirror to run a brush through her hair. It had all been cut to match the piece that had been cut shorter with the knife.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks, during which time she had barely dared access the power within her. Three weeks, during which time she had waited for Taylor to get back from her summer camp. Her family was helping her get over the trauma, but she really needed to see her best friend.

When she walked outside, there was someone standing at the gate. She frowned. _That's not Taylor._ Dark skin, long black hair ...

Anger propelled her off the porch and down to the gate. "What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped.

"Found out where you lived," said the girl – Sophia, that was her name. "Came over to see if you'd come round yet."

Emma shook her head. "You don't get it. We're _not the same_. We're _nothing_ like each other. I would not sit by and watch someone else get mutilated, just because they were too frightened to fight back."

"But you've got it wrong," said Sophia insistently. "There's people who survive through adversity, and people who don't. You survive. So do I. We _are_ the same. We're badass. We're top of the heap."

Emma saw a familiar figure approaching. _Taylor._ Still wearing the camp gear, all bright clothing. She smiled. Sophia misunderstood; she smiled in return, and started to open the gate. Emma put her hand on it. Sophia frowned.

Emma watched Taylor's approach fondly. Broomstick arms and legs, gawky, with a wide, guileless smile, her eyes just a fraction larger behind the glasses she wore, a little too old fashioned. Her long dark curls were tied into a loose set of twin braids, one bearing a series of colorful 'friendship braclet' style ties at the end. Only her height gave her age away.

_Same old Taylor. Dependable._

Sophia looked around. "Who the f**k is that?" she asked.

"Emma!" said Taylor, smiling widely.

"Who the f**k are you?" Sophia asked.

Taylor's smile faltered. A brief look of confusion flickered across her face. "We're friends. Emma and I have been friends for a long time."

Sophia smirked. "_Really_."

"Really," Taylor echoed Sophia.

Taylor was her rock; she would give her sympathy, would listen to everything she had to say, give an unbiased ear to every thought, every wondering and anxiety.

She would give her friendship, too. Support. Just what Emma needed.

"I love the haircut," Taylor filled the silence, talking and smiling like she couldn't contain herself. Emma had missed that. "You manage to make any style look great."

Emma took a deep breath. "Sophia," she said firmly. "Go away. Now. Taylor is my friend, and is welcome here. You are neither."

Sophia looked at Emma as though she really couldn't parse what had been said. It was as if there was a filter in her brain, and certain statements just never made it through. Then she looked at Taylor, and a certain expression crossed her face, for just a moment.

"I'm going," she said. "But I'll be in touch. And we'll kick ass together."

She headed off down the street, as if she owned the whole footpath.

Taylor looked over her shoulder as she went, and then back at Emma. "What was _that_ all about?"

Emma smiled, opened the gate, and pulled her into a hug. "I have _so_ missed you."

Taylor hugged her back. "Missed you too, Ems. What's been happening? You've been all secretive on the phone."

"Seriously," said Emma, "you will never _believe_ what happened." Linking arms with Taylor, she led her inside. What she really needed was a good long toenail-painting session, and a shoulder to cry on. And Taylor was good for both.

_I used to think Taylor was starting to get dull and boring. But she's just ... normal. And right now, I really need normal._

* * *

Sophia strode along as if she had a personal grudge against the pavement. _Taylor, huh? Emma's friends with __**that** __little stick figure? Well, once she sees how pathetic her precious Taylor is, she'll drop her like a hot potato. And then we'll see who she wants to be friends with._

* * *

Emma leaned over Taylor as she knelt at the bottom of the stairs, concerned. "You okay?"

Taylor nodded. She felt her knee, and winced; her hand came away with a spot of blood. "I think it's just a scrape."

Emma looked up; Sophia was half a dozen steps up, with a few other girls clustered around her. "Did you push her?"

"Me? Would I do that?" asked Sophia, doing her best to look innocent. "She's just got such long stick legs that she probably tripped over herself. Just an accident, is all." The other girls giggled in chorus.

Emma's eyes narrowed. "She seems to have a lot of 'accidents' around you."

Sophia shrugged. "Not my problem." She led her bevy down around Emma and Taylor. "See you laterz, Emma."

Emma stared after her. _Ever since she was transferred here, she's been on Taylor's case. And I think I know why. And that worries me._

She offered Taylor her hand. "Come on, let's get you to the nurse. She'll fix that up."

Taylor smiled as she accepted the help. "You're such a good friend, Emma. I don't know what I'd do without you." She leaned heavily on her with every other step. "I don't know what I did to upset Sophia, but I wish I could make it better."

Emma shook her head. "It's nothing you did."

Her concern grew, however. _What will she do next?_

* * *

Emma heard the screaming and banging as she bolted into the locker room, past laughing girls who were on the way out. No-one seemed to be paying much attention to it, but she knew who it was, who it had to be.

She had had classes separate from Taylor's, and had only heard by chance the remark by one of Sophia's cronies that 'the little stick-figure dweeb was locked in her locker' as she went in for her second class for the beginning of the year.

Ignoring the teacher's startled shout, she had turned and run from the room, sprinting down the hallways.

_Taylor's been locked in a locker since the beginning of first period? Oh god, I hope she's all right._

But in her heart, she knew otherwise.

_Sophia, I am going to __**kill** __you._

* * *

Halfway down the hallway, she had slipped ... or something. She came to, face-down on the floor, a string of drool running from her mouth, and a rapidly fading memory of ... what? She couldn't recall.

But Taylor still needed her help. So she got up and ran.

* * *

She zeroed in on the right locker, aided by a horrible smell from the same area. When she found it, there were ... oh god, were those tampons? ... scattered around it, on the floor. The stench was incredible. And Taylor was trapped in that locker.

She couldn't hold back. There was no time to waste. _Taylor_ had no time. She reached inside herself, tapped that power. Her hair grew out, waving around her head, crackling with energy. She latched on to the door, pushed on surrounding lockers. Heaved.

The door came off with a shriek of tearing metal. She tossed it aside lightly, uncaring. Taylor lurched forward, screaming and swinging. Emma caught her in an embrace of long hair, binding her gently. Taylor struggled and writhed in her grip. She stank, abominably, as did the foul, reeking mess that had spilled from the locker.

Emma moved away from that locker, bearing Taylor with her. "Taylor," she said urgently. "Taylor, it's me. Emma." She ignored the smell, bringing Taylor up close to her. Reaching out with her hand, she brushed hair back from Taylor's face.

"Taylor," she said. "It's me. Emma. You're safe."

Taylor blinked. "Emma?" she said, in a small voice.

"Yeah," said Emma. "Hang on, shower time."

She bore Taylor into the shower recesses, turned on one to hot and hard, carried Taylor under the stream.

As the water hit her hair, the power that animated it fell away, and it shrank back to normal length. Taylor slumped under the spray, hugging herself. She still smelled; used sanitary products clung to her.

Emma quickly stripped out of her clothes and stepped under the spray with Taylor. Gently, with soft words and coaxing, she eased Taylor out of her own stinking, horrible clothes, and tossed them away from the shower. Then she began to scrub Taylor down, from head to toe.

Taylor began to cry, great heaving sobs. She clung to Emma, and Emma held her close.

"It's all right," she said. "I'm here. You're safe. You're not in the locker any more."

Taylor blinked. "Emma?" she said again. "Emma? You came?"

Emma hugged Taylor tightly. "Of course I came, silly," she said. "Why wouldn't I?"

Taylor began to shudder. "The locker was so dark, and it smelled, and I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't get out ..."

Emma stroked her hair. "It's all right, Taylor," she said softly. "You're out of there, now."

"Whoa, Barnes! Didn't know you had a hot lezzie thing going with stick-figure Hebert!"

Emma looked around. _Sophia. Of course._

She stood there, near the shower recesses, with her usual coterie of yes-girls. Others, filtering in, stood looking with some curiosity, but no-one else intervened.

Emma had encountered this sort of thing before, in the modelling business. And she knew that there was only one answer to it, only one way to squelch it for good and all.

She looked Taylor in the eye, and said very quietly, "Taylor?"

Taylor blinked water out of her eyes. "What?"

"Play along," said Emma, just as quietly. "Trust me."

And she tilted Taylor's face to meet hers, and kissed her.

She had to give Taylor credit, she played along. After the first frozen moment, she wrapped her arms artistically around Emma's shoulders, pulling her closer into the kiss.

Emma, for her part, ran her hands as lightly as possible over Taylor's body, making it look as suggestive as possible without actually touching anywhere sexual.

There were a few whistles, a few catcalls, but Sophia seemed put out that Emma had called her bluff, and even looked annoyed.

"Hey!" she called. "We don't want those two spreading their gay around the school, do we?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" asked one girl, leaning back from her locker. "My sister's gay."

Another girl stuck her oar in. "So's my cousin."

A third walked up to the group. "So's Legend."

Someone else added, "And what a waste _that_ is." Laughter followed.

And then a girl Emma knew from a few classes stepped right up to Sophia. "And _I'm_ gay," she said defiantly. "You gonna have me kicked out of school too?"

"_You're_ gay, Clements?" asked Sophia. "I've never seen you kiss any girls."

Madison Clements bared her teeth in a grin. "I've never seen you kiss any boys, Hess. Sure you're straight?" More laughter, all directed at Sophia.

"F**k you all," snarled Sophia, and stamped out of the locker area. The other girls dispersed, robbed of their entertainment.

Madison strolled over to the shower, staying just out of the spray. "They're gone," she said conversationally. "You can stop now."

With relief, Emma broke the kiss. Taylor still clung to her, trembling.

Emma turned off the water and helped Taylor to a bench, where she sat with Emma holding her. "Could I have a towel, please?" Emma asked. "Two, for preference."

Madison brought over two towels, and Emma wrapped Taylor in one, then began to dry herself on the other.

"You're not really gay, are you?" commented Madison dryly.

"No," confirmed Emma. "But I've always found the quickest way to have a rumour spread is to deny it. Play along, and there's no drama, and it's forgotten." She grinned at Madison. "And you're not either, are you?"

Madison shook her head with an answering grin. "Nope, but it seemed the thing to say. Good thinking on your part, though." She bent in to help Taylor dry her hair. "What happened to you?"

"Locker," mumbled Taylor. "Locked in."

"_That_ locker," Emma filled in, pointing down the row to the one locker with the door missing, and the reeking filth spilling from it.

"Oh god," said Madison. "I'll get you clothes."

"Thanks," said Emma. "Mine are pretty well grunged up."

Madison brought clothes for both of them; they hung on Taylor, but not overly much. The ones she got for Emma fitted well enough, if a little tight in the chest. And then they marched Taylor, against her protests, to the school infirmary.

"Madison, could you please stay here with Taylor?" asked Emma. "I need to go see someone about something."

Madison nodded, eyes full of curiosity, but she said nothing.

* * *

Emma found Sophia in the hallway with her cronies, laughing about something. She could guess what.

"Sophia," she said, loudly and clearly.

One of the girls looked around. "Oh, hey, Barnes," she said snidely. "Didn't recognise you with your clothes on. Doing a photo shoot, were we?"

Sophia backhanded the girl without even looking. She fell to her knees, nursing a trickle of blood from her nose. "What the hell was that for?"

"You don't get to back-answer Emma," said Sophia. She turned to Emma. "Seen the light, hey?" she asked. "I see you don't have that third wheel with you anymore."

"Yeah," said Emma. "You could say I've seen the light. I'm ready to go kicking ass."

"Excellent," said Sophia. And then she stared, as Emma activated her powers. Tendrils reached for Sophia, who uttered a yelp, turned insubstantial, and leaped for the ceiling. A tendril intercepted her, popping a spark, and she fell back to ground, curled up in agony.

The other girls had scattered, Emma noted distantly. She didn't care. She stepped forward to Sophia, and picked her up. With one hand, she held her against the wall. With the other hand, she started punching her. With each punch, she snapped a word.

"What." _Smack._

"Does." _Smack._

"It." _Smack._

"Take." _Smack._

"For." _Smack._

"You." _Smack._

"To." _Smack._

"Get." _Smack._

"The." _Smack._

"Message?" _Smack._

Her fist was starting to hurt; her knuckles were bleeding. Then again, so was Sophia's face. She let the semi-conscious girl slump to the floor, then kicked her in the ribs, hard. Bending down, she lifted Sophia by the collar. "Stay away from Taylor Hebert," she hissed. Dropping her back to the floor and kicking her one more time, she turned and strode away, her hair gradually assuming more normal proportions.

* * *

When Emma got back to the infirmary, Taylor was lying in the bed with a blanket over her. Madison met her at the door. "The nurse said she's traumatised and needs a bit of rest," she said. "They've called her father." She eyed Emma's knuckles. "What happened to you?"

Emma smiled grimly. "I saw someone about something." She walked through to where Taylor lay. At once, she saw that her friend was groggy from some sort of sedative, but was not totally out of it yet.

"Hey, Tails," she murmured, putting her undamaged hand on Taylor's where it protruded from under the blanket.

"Hey, Sonic," Taylor responded blearily, using her old nickname. "Where were you? I missed you."

Emma grinned. "Just taking care of business. Sophia won't be bothering you any more."

Taylor managed to look worried. "You didn't get in trouble, did you?"

Emma shrugged. "If I do, hella worth it."

She was sitting on the chair, allowing the nurse to tend to her split knuckles, when the PRT troopers entered the infirmary.

* * *

End of Part One


	2. Chapter 2

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Two: What Came Before

* * *

June, 2008

* * *

Sophia Hess slipped in through the upstairs window to her bedroom and stood before the mirror to admire herself for a moment. She _liked_ the costume; it was what separated the weak from the strong, the quick from the dead, the predator from the prey.

But she'd screwed up tonight, she knew. For all that she'd found Emma, someone who wouldn't slow her down, someone to be badass _with_, somehow it had all gone wrong. She frowned. Emma was the same as her; she could _feel_ it. They would work so well together, if only she could make Emma see that a partnership like theirs was the only way things could be. _I'll show her,_ she vowed. _She's seriously kickass already; she just needs me to show her the ropes, show her how satisfying it is to be strong in a world of weaklings._

_But her father got my picture,_ she mused. _When Emma and I get to be known and feared, he might use it. And I can't hurt him; she might not understand._ She grimaced as she took the costume off and folded it away carefully. _Well, **shit**. It looks like I'm gonna have to be a **good** girl for a while. Brockton Bay Wards, here I come._ She grinned in the semi-darkness. _He can't out me then; that's against the law._ Her grin became sharp-edged._About time it worked in my favour._

* * *

September, 2008

* * *

Emma looked around at the school hallway. _So this is Winslow High, _she mused. _I have to be here. Taylor doesn't._ Taylor could have gone on to Arcadia; she was _smart_. But Emma knew that she had chosen to attend Winslow, to be in the same school as her friend. Emma smiled to herself. _Now that's friendship._

Besides, her world had taken a sharp turn into the Twilight Zone back in June, and nothing would ever be the same again. Somehow, the whole 'pretty and popular' scene just seemed so ... _shallow_ to her, now.

She didn't _want_ vacuous girls and adoring boys crowding around her, telling her how great she was. _Well, **maybe** __one or two adoring boys ..._ She grinned to herself as she spotted a couple likely candidates in the crowd.

_And of course, I don't think I could make it through without my real friends_. She glanced sideways to where Taylor stood watching the crowd. "Well, Tails," she said cheerfully, "Winslow High. Our seat of education until we graduate. What do you think?"

Taylor grinned, her eyes happy and almost childlike behind the large round lenses of her glasses. "Well, _I'm _looking forward to it," she declared.

A hand slapped on to Emma's shoulder, and she spun around to see Sophia standing there, grinning at her.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" she demanded.

"Good to see you too, Emma," said Sophia, without a hint of sarcasm. "I'm enrolled, just like you." She leaned close and whispered, "I'm in the Wards now. Sure you don't want to come out kicking ass with me?"

Emma shook her head. "No. Seriously, no. Go away, Sophia. Just ... _go away."_

Sophia put her hands up, surrender-style. "Going, going." Her teeth flashed white. "But I'm gonna be around a lot. You'll see. It'll be _fun."_

Taylor's eyes were troubled as she watched Sophia walk away, her entire posture an expression of arrogance and self-confidence. "What's she want with you, Emma?" She stared at her friend for a moment. "She isn't, you know, trying to …"

Emma shook her head, a chuckle escaping her lips. "No, she's not that way inclined." She took a deep breath. "No, there's something else she wants. Something I can't really talk about right now." _Especially not right now,_ she realised. _If she's telling the truth about being a Ward, then just telling Taylor who she really is would be breaking the law._ She paused, a thought striking her. _I'd better tell Dad to be careful with that picture._

"Is this anything I can help you with?" asked Taylor.

Emma looked at her fondly. She knew Taylor would do just that – help her with anything she wanted or needed, because she was that sort of friend.

_However …_ she shook her head. "No," she said, hating herself for the flash of hurt in Taylor's eyes. "Sorry, Tails. This is something I'm going to have to work through on my own."

"But we're still … you know … friends, right?" said Taylor hopefully. She tended to be a bit of a loner; the geek girl who sat alone and read books. Emma figured herself to be Taylor's only real friend.

She laughed and hugged Taylor. "Of course we're still friends, you big dope," she chuckled, mussing Taylor's hair. "There's no force on Earth strong enough to change _that."_

Taylor grinned and hugged her back. "It's just that that girl …"

"Sophia," supplied Emma absently.

"Yeah, Sophia … it's just that the way she looked at me … she worries me."

"Me too," said Emma. She looked around, her arm around Taylor's shoulders. "But hey," she said. "Let's not get too frazzled yet. It's the first day of school. We've got plenty of other things to worry about."

* * *

"Seriously," said Emma. "Leave Taylor alone."

Sophia leaned casually against the wall. "I still don't get what you see in that loser," she said. "Look at her, she's all knees and elbows. Seriously, you don't need her. What does she do for you?"

Emma sighed. This was the part that she was starting to regret. She'd made the conscious choice to not be part of the 'in' crowd, and so she was now on the outs with most of the people she'd associated with, before. She had her circle of friends, but nor were they themselves very popular, and so when peer opinion turned against one of them, they generally found themselves very much alone.

Taylor was even lower on the social strata than Emma; however, Emma _was_ known to be pretty and rich, even if she didn't make a big deal of it, and so most people left Taylor alone, as her friend.

Not so Sophia, and her little band of mean-spirited like-minded cronies.

Sophia was a rising star at Winslow. She had serious athletic capability, and she regularly placed in the track meets. This, and her attractive looks and aggressive personality, had gotten her a place in the 'in' crowd, which she had leveraged ruthlessly.

This part didn't bother Emma overmuch. She found it a positive rest cure to not have to worry about the day-to-day of whether she was still the most popular girl in school or not; a quiet hour spent with Taylor, discussing TV shows or reading old comic books was far more her speed these days.

The part that bothered her was that Sophia and her group had apparently decided that Taylor was _persona_ _non grata_, and had begun harassing her on a regular occasion. She was pushed, shoved, tripped, and her bag had been stolen on occasion. Emma stood up for her, going so far as to physically interpose herself in front of Taylor. Sophia always called that sort of thing off before any teachers could see, and Emma herself was never touched. And quite often, Emma had been able to get Taylor's stuff back with little harm done.

Emma had tried complaining a couple of times, but the other girls always backed Sophia up, and in fact it wasn't always Sophia, and there were never any witnesses who were willing to talk.

She herself was not as diplomatic or persuasive as she had before the incident with the ABB; she ascribed this to the sudden realignment of her worldview. And so, when she pressed the case, she somehow found herself to be at fault, and being asked if she would prefer to be suspended for a time, until she cooled down.

Eventually, she would figure it out; the school, mindful of Sophia's status as a Ward, and as their very own track star, was willing to bend over backward to keep her in the curriculum and not going off to another school.

For herself, she didn't want to draw too much attention; as a parahuman herself, albeit with secret powers, she wanted to fly under the radar as much as possible. And that was the other problem; once that cat was out of the bag, it would never be stuffed back in. And there was always the possibility that Sophia would let it slip one fine day, and her life would be overturned. Again.

"I don't need to defend my choice of friends to you," she snapped. "Anyway, it's not about her. It's about you. Just leave her alone, okay?"

Sophia just rolled her eyes and stood up from the wall. "Someday you'll see the light, Emma. Someday you'll see I was right all along."

She strolled off, whistling off-key.

Emma watched her go. _I could __**make** __her stop,_ she thought_. But that … that could go very bad, very quickly._

_Surely she'll see reason sooner or later. Before someone gets hurt._

* * *

"Emma?" said Taylor, looking into her locker. "Have you seen my flute?"

Emma looked around. "No. Did you bring it to school today?"

Taylor nodded. "I've been practising scales on it, and I wanted to show the music teacher. I'm sure I left it in my locker, and now I can't find it."

Emma frowned. She recalled the flute. It was a beautiful instrument; not intrinsically valuable, but Taylor had had it from her mother, who could coax music out of it that left Emma in tears afterward. Taylor wasn't that good with it yet, but she enjoyed working at it.

She got down on her hands and knees, looking around to see if it had been kicked under anything. "Can't see it," she said at last.

Taylor had been going through each shelf on her locker, lifting everything out, then putting it back. She even looked among the gym shoes on the floor of the locker, and ran her hand over the top, in case she had absent-mindedly put it up there. "It's not here," she said despairingly. "I've lost it. My mother's flute. It's _gone."_

The desolation in her voice hit Emma hard, and she enfolded Taylor in a hug. "I'm sure it will turn up," she said, trying to be comforting. "I'll keep an eye out for it. Maybe we can put up notices."

Taylor sniffled. "Thanks, but … there's not much hope, is there?"

Emma smiled, more confidently than she felt. "There's always hope," she assured Taylor.

_And I think I know who did it._

* * *

"Sophia."

The girls turned around at Emma's voice.

"Emma," said Sophia. "Come to say hi?"

"Taylor's flute," said Emma flatly. "Give it back, and I won't say anything more about it."

"Flute?" asked Sophia archly. "Do I look like I'd have anything to do with a _flute?"_ The girls around her laughed.

"You took it from Taylor's locker," said Emma. "I want it back." She took a step forward.

The girls around Sophia went, "Oooo," in a mocking tone of voice. One even went so far as to say, "Ooh, she's so tough."

But Sophia straightened up from her relaxed posture, her eyes just the faintest bit wary. "Not that I'm saying I took it," she said carelessly, "but I did happen to see something that might have looked a little bit like a flute …" Her voice trailed off.

"Where _is_ it?" snapped Emma. Something went _pop_, very quietly, between the tips of two strands of her hair. The girls didn't notice. Sophia did, and her eyes widened very slightly.

"Well, you did say something about nothing more said about it, right?" she said, trying for a casual tone.

"Yes, sure, whatever," Emma ground out. "Now spill."

"The big trash dumpster. Down the back, near the incinerator. Someone looking for a flute might find it there."

But Emma was already gone.

One of the girls looked at Sophia and pouted. "Aww," she said. "I wanted to see you make her beg for it."

Sophia gave her a flat look. "Sometimes, Marcy," she said, "you need to learn how to shut the f**k up."

* * *

Emma pulled back the lid to the dumpster, and gagged. The flute was on top of the pile of trash. But it was … what they'd done to it was …

She turned aside and dry-retched for a moment, before searching around for a plastic bag. _I need to wrap it in something watertight and airtight,_ she told herself. _Maybe two or three bags._

She never even once considered leaving it where it lay.

* * *

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Taylor. "My flute! You found it!"

She clutched the instrument tightly, and Emma scarcely less tightly.

Emma smiled. "You left it in the music room, you ditz," she said with a grin. "Someone else took it home by accident. I asked around, and finally got ahold of it yesterday."

The reality was slightly different. She had finally used her powers, picking it up with a tendril of hair that she faithfully promised she would cut off and burn once she was done. Finding a faucet, she had washed it off as best she could, then took it home and cleaned it more thoroughly. A music store she knew of had a repair shop out back; they had tut-tutted at the damage, but had done a bang-up job of fixing it like new.

It had cost her more than a little bit, but for Taylor, it was worth it. For the look on Taylor's face, it was definitely worth it.

"I'm sure I left it in my locker," said Taylor doubtfully.

Emma rolled her eyes. "And yet, it wasn't there," she pointed out. She hated lying to Taylor more than anything, but she didn't want Taylor confronting Sophia's gang directly. Without Emma there to intervene, Taylor might get hurt. And she knew that Sophia _would_ hurt her.

"Uhh," said Taylor, with the mercurial change of subject that was one of the things that Emma loved about her, "what's with your hair? Looks like there's a little bit missing."

Emma grinned ruefully. "Accident with the scissors," she said. "You're not the only ditz."

Taylor laughed.

* * *

"We need to take this to the Protectorate, to the PRT," said Alan Barnes. "If half of what you're saying is true, then the school's at least guilty of criminal negligence."

"No," said Emma, very reluctantly. "Dad, Sophia's _careful._ She has lookouts, and any time a teacher, or someone who's not part of their little in-group, or not scared of them, comes near, they're all innocent and nice."

She shook her head. "And if we push it, and let them know, sure as hell Sophia will out _me_. Even though I've never gone out and so much as saved a cat from a tree. And she'll spread it just as far and wide as she can manage, just to make my life hell."

He looked concerned. "Maybe you should apply to the Wards?"

"Hell, no," she said. "Sophia's a part of that already. That'll just make her think I'm subscribing to her twisted little world-view, and she'll creep on to me more than ever." She closed her eyes, then opened them. "I'm just going to have to stick it out, protect Taylor, and maybe next year we can go to a different school."

"Actually, I've had ideas for that," Alan said. "Protecting Taylor, I mean. I can sign you up for self-defense classes. They probably wouldn't help Taylor much, but you've got muscle tone you can put to good use. If you're willing?"

She nodded. "That'll be a great help, actually, Dad. But seriously, don't worry. I've got it under control."

He frowned, eyes troubled. "If you say so, Emma."

She nodded. "I do say so, Dad." She shrugged. "She hasn't done anything actually actionable yet," she added. "Just a lot of petty stuff, that they can pass off as school rough-housing. Most of which I've managed to intercept. So Taylor's not doing too badly." She grinned at him. "I've invited her over for a pizza and movie night, Saturday. Is that okay?"

"Sure," he said. "I'll call up Danny, ask him over too. Been a while since we caught up."

She grinned and hugged him. "It's all gonna be okay. You'll see."

He hugged her back. "I hope you're right, honey. I hope you're right."

* * *

End of Part Two


	3. Chapter 3

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Three: In the Heat of the Moment

* * *

Emma only saw two troopers to begin with. At almost the same time, the PA system came to life, the ancient wiring putting a crackling overlay on the principal's voice. _"Attention all students. Attention all students and staff. There is a dangerous parahuman on school grounds. Please make your way immediately to the cafeteria. I repeat, please make your way immediately to the cafeteria."_

Emma frowned. _He sounds worried. Who is he –_

The penny dropped, just as the two troopers reached the door to the infirmary and entered.

"Excuse me, ladies," said one of them, a pleasant-faced young man in an open helmet. "If you can –"

His partner was a little more on the ball; he spotted Emma's red hair and began to bring up his rifle. "Christ!" he yelled. "It's her!"

Emma reacted without thinking; she wrenched her hand free from the nurse's grip and came up out of the chair. Her hair blossomed outward; she hadn't done much with her powers before this day, but she could swear that it was reacting faster each time she used it. Bright red streamers of hair wrapped the troopers up like mummies, while more tendrils plucked the guns from their hands.

"Please," she said, "no guns. I don't want anyone getting hurt. And guns are so unpredictable."

They stared at her, frozen. She stared back, totally at a loss as to what to do.

"Look," she said. "This is all a huge misunderstanding –"

"There is indeed," came a deeper voice from the door. "And you made it."

She turned; an armoured figure stood there, with a metal halberd in his hands. _Armsmaster._

"Wait," she said. "It doesn't have to be –"

He took a deliberate pace forward. "You've taken officers of the law hostage, as well as three civilians," he stated deliberately. "That's a criminal offence, which makes you a villain." He didn't touch any controls, but the halberd began to hum ominously. "And I don't negotiate with villains."

With painful clarity, she recalled the Armsmaster action figure that she had above her bed. _I'm about to be killed by one of my idols._

"I'm not a villain!" she screamed.

He paused, seeming slightly confused. "Perhaps you believe that," he said. "But your actions say differently."

She whipped her hair away from the PRT troopers. "See? Not hurt! They were pointing guns at me and my friends! I don't like guns, or weapons." Discreetly, her hair tendrils deposited the rifles on the floor, near the door.

"I still have to bring you in," stated Armsmaster. "You assaulted a Ward. That's a serious crime in itself." His voice was implacable, his demeanour intimidating.

"Yes, I beat the living shit out of Sophia Hess," she said with exasperation, "but that's only because she hurt my friend."

"What did she do to your friend?" he asked; for the first time, his voice became more interested, less accusatory. She noticed the neatly trimmed beard. _Does he shave it to fit the helmet?_

Emma took a deep breath. "In the girls' locker room, there's a locker with the door ripped all the way off. I did that. In the locker, and scattered around it, is a heap of used feminine products that were put in there before the Christmas break. It's Taylor's locker. She opened it, Sophia shoved her in there, and locked the door on her. I didn't find out till the end of the period. She was in there for _forty-five minutes_. Up to her waist in stuff I don't even want to _think_ about."

She stared at him defiantly. "And that's why I went and beat the living goddamn shit out of Sophia goddamn Hess."

Armsmaster paused again. His lips were moving very slightly. _He must be speaking on the radio._

"Your story will be checked out," he said. "In the meantime, let these people go."

"I wasn't _holding_ them," she protested. "Well, okay, those guys, yes, but they can go if they want. And these are my friends, and this is the school nurse. She was treating my hand when they came in."

Taylor half sat up, roused by the noise. "Emma?" she said. "What's going on?" She spotted the armoured cape in the doorway. "Wow, Armsmaster's here? C'n you get his autograph for me? 'M feeling kinda sleepy ..." She settled down again, pulling the blanket over herself.

"Taylor can't be moved right now," said the nurse unexpectedly. "She's suffering from extreme mental trauma, and she has numerous small cuts and abrasions that need observation; from the description of where she was, even a tiny cut could lead to a very nasty infection." She gave Armsmaster a level stare. "And I'm not leaving her here alone."

"And I'm staying too," said Madison. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"No, miss, you are not," said Armsmaster firmly. "You have no official reason to be here, and all students have been told to report to the cafeteria."

Madison looked stubborn, but Emma nodded to her. "Go," she said quietly. "And thanks for all your help."

Reluctantly, Madison edged past Emma and the troopers, then squeezed past Armsmaster. Pausing in the doorway, she called back, "Get me an autograph too, will you, Emma?"

"I'll try!" called back Emma. _Can't guarantee anything though,_ she thought glumly.

The nurse came over to where Emma stood, her hair still waving gently in the air. "I haven't finished treating your hand," she said, taking the offending appendage in hers. "So you beat up the girl who did this to Taylor?"

Emma nodded, becoming more and more aware that having done so, no matter how satisfying it had been, was probably not going to be as worth it as she had thought.

"Yeah," she said. "I just got so pissed off – sorry," she added hastily, suddenly aware that she had sworn in front of the nurse.

The nurse grinned unexpectedly. "So would I. Good for you," she said. "It's good to see friends sticking up for one another." She tut-tutted as she finished cleaning and bandaging the cuts. "Though you made an awful mess of your hand."

"Trust me," said Armsmaster unexpectedly, "the other girl's face is much worse off."

Startled, Emma looked at him. But the armoured crimefighter seemed to have simply meant it as a statement of fact. He waited, apparently content to watch her. So she waited, too.

* * *

A few minutes later, Armsmaster tilted his head slightly, as if listening. He said something under his breath, then appeared to look directly at Emma. "Your story checks out," he said. There was ... what? Surprise in his voice?

"Which means ...?" began Emma, having belatedly begun to learn not to take things at face value.

"Which means that I escort you to the principal's office, and we talk to him about why one of our Wards apparently locked someone in a locker full of biological waste, and how she thought she could get away with it." What she could see of his mouth was set in a grim line. "Our medical techs have sealed off that entire area, until all the waste has been cleaned up."

"... right," said Emma. "I really don't want any more trouble."

"That's not up to me," stated Armsmaster unequivocally. "You did commit assault and battery upon a Ward in her civilian identity, and caused her to be unmasked as a result. You also assaulted two members of the Parahuman Response Teams, in the commission of their duties, which is also a crime. I have recorded your statement that you were acting under emotional distress when you committed these crimes; perhaps this will count in your favour with Director Piggot."

He hefted the halberd slightly. "However, we _are_ wasting time. We need to get to the principal's office. It would be in your best interests to come quietly."

"Oh, I'm coming quietly," said Emma hastily. She paused to squeeze Taylor's hand and give a nod to the nurse. The nurse nodded back, and gave her a discreet thumbs-up.

* * *

Emma let her hair reduce to its normal proportions as she stepped into the hall. To all appearances, she was a normal, if strikingly pretty, teenage student.

"Very useful," observed Armsmaster as they walked along. "I was going to ask how you got around with that much hair, but I see now that the question is immaterial." He paused. "Do you grow it, or simply create it from thin air?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "Umm ... just a question. What's my best-case outcome, here?"

"Best case?" repeated Armsmaster. "Best case is that Director Piggot decides that you were justified, or at least not unjustified, in your actions, and has all charges dropped." He paused a beat. "A much more likely scenario, given that you harmed no-one except Shadow Stalker, is that you would be given probation, to be served as a member of the Wards."

"No," said Emma. "I don't like that one."

He tilted his head slightly. "Why is that? It _is_ preferable to simply going to prison, I can assure you."

"Because Shadow Stalker, Sophia, call her what you want, has been creeping on to me for the last two and a half years, trying to get me to come out and be a badass crimefighter with her," said Emma in a rush. "And because I won't, she's been getting her friends to pick on Taylor all this time."

"Hmm," replied Armsmaster. "I believe you. However, you're going to have to repeat that to Director Piggot."

"Don't you at least _care_ that she's been doing all this?" burst out Emma.

"Oh, I _care_," Armsmaster replied imperturbably. "It's just that, right now, my responsibility is to bring you to see Director Piggot. Dealing with Shadow Stalker, we can do after we get there."

Emma had nothing to say to that. The rest of the walk passed in silence.

* * *

The first person that Emma saw when she entered the principal's office was her father. She broke forward and hugged him tightly; he hugged her back.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "But what on earth are you wearing? I know I never bought that for you."

"No, you didn't," giggled Emma. "Madison gave it to me. My clothes were all grungy."

He went to ask another question, then closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment. "No, that can wait." He looked around the office, at the other people in it. "My biggest question here is, what the hell happened?"

"_My_ question," said a tall, skinny man with glasses, "is what happened to Taylor, and where is she now?"

"Mr Hebert," said Emma. She went over and hugged him too. "Taylor's okay now. She had a really bad time, but she's resting in the infirmary. The nurse is with her."

"But what _happened?"_ he repeated, his voice rising.

"She was shut into a locker containing toxic biological waste for approximately forty-five minutes, Mr Hebert," Armsmaster said bluntly. "Whereupon Miss Barnes here found her, got her out of the locker, and apparently cleaned her up and got her to the infirmary." He turned to Emma. "That _is_ what you did, isn't it?" he asked.

Emma nodded. "That's basically it," she agreed. "There are other details, but nothing important."

Danny headed for the door. "I want to see her," he said. "How do I find the infirmary?"

The principal turned to his deputy. "Show Mr Hebert the way to the infirmary, please," he said. "I can deal with this for the time being."

* * *

Danny Hebert sat on the chair beside the bed. Taylor's hand protruded from under the blanket, and he took it in his work-roughened hands.

She stirred, and blinked at him. "Is that you, Dad?" she said muzzily.

"It's me, kiddo," he replied warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore," she said softly. "The nurse gave me something to help me rest, but I think it's wearing off. And I'm all cut and bruised from ..." She trailed off, and shuddered.

"Oh, _Taylor_," said Danny, leaning forward and putting his arm around her blanketed shoulders.

She buried her face in his shoulder. "Oh god, Dad," she whimpered, "it was so horrible. It was dark, and it stank, and I couldn't breathe, and there were all these bugs, and I couldn't get _out_ ..."

Danny held her, feeling her hot tears soaking his shoulder, and he felt a slow, steady burn of anger toward the people who let this happen, who allowed that girl to get to the point where she thought she could hurt his little girl in this way, and get away with it .

_Hell __**no**,_ he thought. _Not gonna happen. Not to my little girl. Not this time._

As he stroked her hair, one other thought kept running through his mind.

_Thank God Emma was there._

* * *

Taylor let her father hold her close, and she cried on his shoulder. But even as one part of her let the emotional response pour out, another part held back and worried.

Because she had gone insane in that locker; she was sure she had. Because she had started seeing and hearing things, in her head, that weren't there.

But she was out of the locker now. It was all good. Dad was here, and he would make everything better.

Except that, in the back of her mind, she could still hear strange noises and see strange shapes, moving, shifting.

_If I ask myself am I insane, does that make me sane?_

She didn't know, and was afraid to ask.

* * *

In the principal's office, things had settled down. Emma sat next to her father, across from the principal and his deputy. To one side sat a heavily overweight woman, who had been introduced as Director Emily Piggot of the Parahuman Response Teams.

To the other side stood Armsmaster; directly beside him sat Sophia, her face bruised and puffy, with butterfly bandages and small sticky-plaster patches on the damage that Emma had inflicted. She would not meet Emma's eye; her head was down, her expression sullen.

"I confess, I find much of this hard to believe," said the principal. "Sophia's always been an exemplary student ... well, not _exemplary_, mind, but definitely well within our boundaries. She doesn't smoke, she doesn't start fights, she makes friends readily. And she's a real star on the track."

"Look," said Emma. "Dad and I encountered her ... when? Two thousand eight? Just before she ended up here?"

Armsmaster nodded. "She requested this school. I was puzzled, but she had volunteered for the Wards, and so she was given a little leeway."

Emma nodded. "That does not surprise me. We ran into her before she joined the Wards. We were in a bad part of town, our car got trapped by some ABB thugs. They dragged me out of the car. They were going to cut my eye out or my ears off, or something even worse, and then I saw her. Just watching. To see what I'd do, I looked her right in the eye, and she looked right back at me. She did _nothing."_

All eyes turned to Sophia. She hung her head a little farther, looked a little more sullen. Emma frowned._She doesn't give up this easily._

"So what happened?" asked Director Piggot. "Your eyes and ears are obviously whole. Or did they ..." she let the question trail off.

Emma shook her head. "No, thank God. I manifested my powers right about that point. Knocked half of them out, the other half ran for it." Her voice rose with indignation. "And then she tried to _congratulate_ me!"

"And what happened then?" asked Armsmaster. His hand was on Sophia's shoulder; Emma did not think it was there for reassurance.

"I was a little peeved, that's what happened," Emma said. "I grabbed her and slammed her on the hood of the car. Asked her why the hell she didn't help."

"And ...?" prompted Director Piggot.

"And she said, and I quote, 'I wanted to see who you were.'"

Director Piggot frowned. "Is that true, Armsmaster?"

"As far as I can tell, yes," he responded.

Emma blinked. _He's got a lie detector in his helmet? No wonder he believed what I had to say._

"Sophia," said the Director.

Sophia did not respond.

"Sophia!" she said more sharply.

Slowly, Sophia raised her head.

"What did you mean by that?" asked the Director. "When you told her that."

"How would I know?" replied Sophia almost rudely. "It was two years ago. Do _you_ remember what you had for breakfast two years ago?"

Piggot's lips thinned. "Be careful what you say, young lady," she said warningly. "If these allegations prove true, you're going to be in a great deal of trouble. You don't want to make things worse for yourself."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "I've been a Ward for two years now. I've been a _good_ girl. I've toed the goddamn line, regurgitated the party line so often I must say it in my sleep. But the first time someone comes along and makes some sort of complaint about me, who do you believe? Me or them?"

She went to rise; Armsmaster pressed down on her shoulder. "Sit. Down," he ordered.

"Go screw yourself," she told him, and dissolved into her shadow-form. And then there was a _pop_ , as of an electrical discharge, and she reformed again with a scream of pain, curled up on the floor. A tendril of Emma's hair was visible, wrapped around her ankle.

Armsmaster reached down, picked up Sophia with one hand, and set her in the chair again. Then he snapped some sort of elaborate bracelet around her wrist. "I have to admit, I did not think she would try to flee," he said. "That was quick thinking, young lady." He nodded to her hair tendril. "You can put that away, now."

Emma nodded, and the hair retracted until it was no longer noticeable among the rest of her tresses.

"Well, that was a somewhat extreme reaction, but we have to take emotional instability into account," observed Director Piggot. "However, for the moment, I am inclined to take Ms Barnes' account at face value."

"Thank you, uh, Director," said Emma. "But that wasn't the worst bit."

"What _was_ the worst bit?" asked the Director.

"That she decided that I was her ideal partner in rooftop jumping, and that me not wanting to do it just meant that Taylor was holding me back. So she set about trying to denigrate Taylor in my eyes, make her look weak, so I'd cut ties with her and take up with Sophia."

She looked the Director in the eye. "So for the last two years, more or less, she has harassed Taylor and had her friends do the same. And the school's ignored any complaints I made for her, because Sophia's a Ward, and she's popular, and she's a track star, and gosh, we can't have her miss any _track meets."_

She was a little ashamed of the sarcasm that crept into her voice at the end of this speech, but quickly decided that she didn't care anymore.

Behind his desk, the principal squirmed. "I'm sure it hasn't been as bad as you are making out, Miss Barnes," he began. "If there's been any property damage, I'm sure it can be reimbursed ..."

Emma nodded. "What a great idea," she said sweetly. "I have a receipt at home for a repair bill of four hundred seventy-three dollars. That's just one item."

"Four hundred ..." The principal trailed off. "What was that for?"

"Sophia stole a flute out of Taylor's locker and she and her coterie basically did their best to make sure it could never be used again. They damaged it badly, then ... did disgusting things to it."

She paused. "I found it, and had it repaired with my own money, just so Taylor wouldn't confront Sophia about it. Because Sophia _would_ pick a fight, and she _would_ hurt Taylor badly. All she would need is half an excuse."

There was silence then, as all eyes found Sophia, who remained hunched up in her chair.

Alan Barnes broke it first. "The school, of course, will pay reparations to Taylor and her father, for all the mental anguish, all the lost property, and all the medical bills that are likely to ensue from this," he said. "Also, no matter what else happens to Sophia Hess, I want her and all of her friends that assisted her in bullying Taylor Hebert to be _gone_ from Winslow by the end of the week." He looked at Emma. "You will, no doubt, have a comprehensive list of names?"

Emma nodded. "I do indeed, Dad," she said.

"Now just wait one minute," said the prinicpal. "Throw out how many students on the say-so of one girl? Someone who assaulted another student, and destroyed a locker?"

Alan Barnes stood up, and stepped forward until he was leaning over the principal's desk. "You will do it," he said softly, "or I _will_ bring suit against the school, and against every single teacher who could possibly have spotted some of the bullying, and did nothing about it."

His voice grew harder. "This went on for _two years_, sir. My daughter complained several times, but nothing ever happened. Well now, something is happening. And you _will_ do as I say, or I will make it my personal lifelong goal to ensure that you never administrate anything more important than a hot-dog cart, ever again."

He straightened his tie, stepped back, and sat down again. "Think it over, sir," he said quietly. "I'm sure you'll see it from my point of view."

Director Piggot cleared her throat. "Be that as it may; that is outside the purview of the PRT." She looked at Emma. "I am forced to conclude that Miss Barnes acted only in the best interests of the Hebert girl, and was justified in her actions toward Sophia Hess."

Armsmaster nodded. "And the assault on the troopers who first encountered her?"

Piggot considered. "They were released unharmed, so I am willing to make allowances for the circumstances," she said, carefully enunciating every word. She turned a probing glare on Emma. "Especially since it _will not_ happen again." The meaning was implicit. _It had better not._

Emma shook her head violently in negation. "Oh, no, no, no," she said fervently. She paused. "So ... what happens now?" she asked.

"Now?" said Armsmaster. "Shadow Stalker is stripped of her Wards status as of right now. She will be tried for her offenses and very probably remanded to juvenile hall. While she was an effective crimefighter, this shows a side of her that we do not want in the Wards under any circumstances."

He paused. "As per your father's recommendation, she will be removed from Winslow High. I presume the others will be gone in short order as well."

"As for _you,"_ said Director Piggot, "I would like to extend an invitation for you to join the Wards. You have an admirable level of dedication to your friends, and Armsmaster tells me you showed considerable self-restraint when dealing with the troopers. You can get proper training with your powers, and perhaps find new applications for their use."

Emma thought about this, then shook her head. "Sorry," she said. "But I'm going to have to decline."

Everyone stared at her. "What?" asked her father. "Why? It sounds like a great offer."

Emma shrugged helplessly. "Taylor's been hurt really badly. Not on the outside, but on the inside. I saw the look in her eyes. I've _been_ there. She's going to need someone to be there for her, a shoulder to cry on, a rock to cling to. She did that for me, three years ago. I owe it to her, now."

There was silence for a time, and then Director Piggot spoke up. "I cannot argue with that," she said. "Just understand this; the offer is open, any time you want to take it up. In fact, feel free to visit; any one of our Wards would be happy to give you a tour of the facilities."

Emma nodded. "Thank you, uh, Director," she said awkwardly. "I appreciate it, I really do." She smiled. "And who knows, someday I might take you up on it. But right now, my friends come first."

* * *

On the way out of the building, Armsmaster chose a quiet moment to comment, "You didn't push too hard to get the Barnes girl on the team, Director. May I enquire why?"

Emily Piggot turned to look at him. "Are you questioning my decisions?"

"No, Madam Director," he said. "I'm merely trying to ascertain your reasons for doing it that way."

Piggot nodded. "Well, it's simple. She's under a certain level of mental stress right now, and she's obviously devoted to the Hebert girl. Pushing harder would have achieved nothing; in fact, it would have driven her away from us. As it is, once things settle down for her, she may well decide to see what she's missing out on."

Armsmaster nodded. "I think I see," he said doubtfully.

Piggot nodded. "Of course, if Miss Barnes does show up, try not to let Clockblocker give her the tour. We don't want her turned off us altogether."

Armsmaster nodded. "Understood, Madam Director."

The rest of the walk passed in silence.

* * *

A Few Days Later

* * *

"So you really turned down an offer to join the Wards?" asked Taylor. She was stretched out comfortably on the sofa behind Emma's head; Emma was seated on the floor, leaning against the sofa.

Emma finished painting one thumbnail and held it out at arm's length, to see how it looked. "Yeah," she said. "Told 'em I wouldn't join anything that wouldn't take you as a member."

"You could have joined," said Taylor uncomfortably. "I would have been okay with that." She grinned. "Some of those boys in the Wards are some kind of hunky."

"Well, there is that," admitted Emma, "but to be honest, I think I'd prefer to be here with you, doing this." She turned toward Taylor's feet. "What shade do you want your toenails done in? I have Seashell Pink, Magenta Blast, and something called Rainbow Dazzle."

"Uhh ... " said Taylor. "There's actually something I've been meaning to talk to you about, while there's no-one else around." She sounded troubled, and Emma immediately put the cap back on the nail polish.

"Okay, Tails, what's up?" she asked. "It's not some undying declaration of love for me, is it?" She grinned to show it was a joke.

Taylor shook her head. "No, it's serious." She took a deep breath. "I think I went insane in that locker."

Emma moved closer to her, and took her hand. "Taylor, it must have been hugely stressful in there. I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't firing on all cylinders when you got out. But you've had time to rest and recuperate now; you should be okay by now, right?" Her voice held a hopeful edge. _Please be all right._

"Physically, I'm fine," Taylor assured her. "But ... the first thing was, I kept on seeing bursts of light inside my head, and hearing weird noises. And when I got out of the locker, it didn't stop. It's like a thousand TV sets, all running at the same time, all badly tuned. But I haven't looked too closely at the pictures. I'm scared of what I might see."

Emma tried to absorb this. "You don't get voices in your head telling you to go and kill every second person you see, do you?" she asked, trying to make a joke out of it.

Taylor shook her head. "Thankfully, no," she said. "Just noises fading in and out, lots of them. All in the back of my head." She took a deep breath. "And then there's the second thing."

"Second thing?" asked Emma.

"Yeah," said Taylor. "Sometimes when I'm just relaxing, drifting, letting my mind wander, I see insects flying or crawling around ... and I can predict _where they're going to go."_

"Wait, what?" asked Emma. "For reals?"

Taylor nodded. "I'll try to relax now," she said. "Let me know if you see a fly or something."

"Okay," said Emma. Taylor lay back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

For a moment, Emma wondered if this was a trick by Taylor to snatch a five-minute nap, but she dismissed the thought. _If she wanted a nap, she'd say so,_ she told herself.

After a few moments, she saw a fly buzzing through the house. "Fly," she murmured.

"Over near the door, right?" Taylor answered, without opening her eyes.

"Yeah," said Emma. "It's –"

"Coming this way," said Taylor. "It's gonna circle your head and land on your hand."

And to Emma's astonishment, it did just that.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

Still with her eyes closed, Taylor shrugged. "I just decide that I want to know what it's going to do, and whatever pops into my head is what happens."

"Huh," said Emma. She frowned, looking at the fly. "Taylor, have you ever tried _making_ an insect do what you want?"

"Huh?" said Taylor, opening her eyes. The fly took off. "I'd have to be insane to believe I could do that."

Emma shook her head. "What if you think you're predicting it, when really you're thinking up behaviour a fly would do, and telling the fly to do it?"

Taylor frowned. "So I'm telling it what to do?"

Emma shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

Taylor nodded. "Okay. I'll give it a shot." She spoke out loud. "The fly will come back, land on your other hand, and walk in a circle."

The fly came back, landed on Emma's other hand, and walked in a circle.

"Holy crap," said Taylor.

"Yeah," said Emma. "Holy crap."

"No, no," said Taylor. "When the fly walked in a circle, one of those fuzzy TVs? I caught a picture of you and me in it. I think I'm seeing through its eyes."

Emma turned to face Taylor. Their eyes met, and they stared at each other.

"You can control insects, and see through their eyes, hear through their ears?" asked Emma. "That's ... crap, that's insane. How many can you do at once?"

Taylor shrugged. "No idea," she said. "I only just now realised it's not me being nuts after all."

Emma grinned. "Well, I wouldn't say _that_," she said.

Taylor threw a cushion at her.

* * *

End of Part Three


	4. Chapter 4

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Four: Meet the Wards

* * *

Danny and Alan sat at each end of the Heberts' smallish dining table; the girls sat opposite one another. They ate at each others' houses at least once a month, sometimes more often, and this night was the turn of Danny and Taylor to play host.

Up till now, the conversation had wandered from topic to desultory topic, but the meal was over, and the talk died away.

"How about a board game?" suggested Danny. "I've got one that came in from Earth Aleph awhile ago, called Pandemic. It's apparently quite good."

"What, we play diseases or something?" asked Alan good-naturedly.

"Ew, Dad, that sounds disgusting," said Emma, screwing her face up.

"No, no, you fight diseases. It's a cooperative game," Danny explained, starting to get up.

"Wait, Dad," said Taylor. "Before you get the game, Emma and I need to talk to the both of you about something important."

Danny sat down again, looking to Emma and then to Taylor and back again. "What do you want to talk about?" He looked at Emma's father. "Alan?"

Alan shrugged. "Search me. Whenever they're at my place, they're always whispering quietly together."

Danny frowned. "You two haven't become a couple, have you?" He hastened to add, "I mean, it's perfectly okay with me if you have."

"Sure," said Alan. "Me too."

Emma looked from Danny to Alan and back again, and then burst into giggles. Across the table, Taylor did her best not to follow suit, then Emma caught her eye, and she was gone too.

Danny looked at them both, then at Alan. "Not a couple then."

Alan sighed. "Apparently not. Though I have to admit, with these two, it would be kind of superfluous; I see Taylor almost as much as I see Emma anyway."

Danny nodded. He frowned at Taylor. "Though I wish I knew what was so funny."

Emma sobered a little; studiously not looking at Taylor, she said, "It's funny because there's a rumour going around school that we _are_ together. We're not, but we don't care if people think we are."

"So if it's not that, then what is it?" asked Alan. "What's had you two all conspiratorial all of a sudden?"

Taylor took a deep breath. "Dad, Mr Barnes, I've got powers."

Both men looked at her in silent consternation, then to Emma.

Emma nodded. "Yeah. It's true. Taylor, show them."

Taylor took another deep breath, and concentrated. From all over the room, insects converged; some large, some small. They formed a whirling spiral over the table, then landed, one after the other, forming concentric circles on the cloth as they came to rest.

Danny blinked. "You can control _insects?"_

"Not just insects," Emma put in. "Other bugs, plus anything small like that."

"Yeah," said Taylor. "I get a sort of TV channel in my head, and an idea of what it is and where it is, but I have to sort of 'click' on it to get control. But I've got lots of channels running at any time, and I can click on any number at once. It's pretty cool, actually."

"Have you hit an upper limit yet?" asked Alan.

Taylor shook her head. "I haven't dared go too high – people might talk if they saw a really big swarm sweeping across the sky – but I haven't found a limit yet, that I know of. I'm still finding out my range, but I think it's about one or two blocks."

Emma took another deep breath. "We're still working on training Taylor with them, but ... we've decided to become superheroes together. Maybe form our own team."

"Wait," exclaimed Alan Barnes. "Team? What? Going out and fighting crime? Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that is?"

Emma nodded. "Yes, Dad, I actually do," she said in a voice that could cut steel. "Remember?" She stared him in the eyes. He stared back for a few moments, then dropped his own eyes.

"I could never forget," he muttered. "Sorry, honey."

For his part, Danny was speaking earnestly to Taylor. "Kiddo, it's a huge, huge step from being able to tell bugs what to do, to being able to fight off an armed attacker. Especially one that might have powers of his own." He took a deep breath. "I mean, what if someone comes at you with a knife? Or a gun? What can your powers do for you?"

"Well," said Taylor seriously, "if he can see through the bugs crawling into his eyes, and breathe through the ones crawling into his mouth and nose, and I'm not even going to go into stinging insects and venomous spiders right now, then he'll be doing better than most people." She paused. "Dad, we _have_ thought about this."

Danny leaned back. "Sorry. Of course you have. You never do anything without planning it through first." He took a deep breath. "Okay, I've known about Emma's powers for some time, but Taylor ... when did you get yours?"

Taylor took a deep breath. "Um ... back at school. When I was ... in the locker." Emma reached across the table and took her hand. Taylor squeezed it gratefully.

"Well, this is definitely something to think about," said Danny. "You haven't actually gone out and done anything yet?" The girls both shook their heads. "Good. I think it's a really good idea for you both to think very long and hard about what you intend to do."

"Maybe you should join the Wards, as Director Piggot suggested," said Alan. "They have a lot of backup and support, as well as medical assistance in case you get hurt." He frowned. "I mean, I know you can take care of yourself, Emma, but things can still go very wrong out there. And not just from criminals; I've been studying cape law ever since you got your powers, and there are many ways that rogue capes can come seriously adrift."

Emma nodded. "We know this, Dad. We'll be careful, and we'll train up first."

Taylor spoke up. "I've been looking up insects and bugs of all sorts, and black widow spiders have the second strongest webbing in the world. They are native to the area, so I should be able to find and gather enough to make us spider-silk costumes, once I learn their basic signal type."

"Um, spider silk costumes?" asked Danny, looking a little lost.

Taylor grinned. "Tougher and lighter than Kevlar. And I think I can convince spiders to literally weave me a costume from their webs. And I can make one for Emma too. If I do them right, we should be proof against knives at least, and maybe even bullets."

"Well, that's something, at least," said Alan. "Emma, how are your self defense classes going?"

"Pretty well, Dad," Emma responded. "Actually, Taylor, you could probably learn something there too. If only to break free of someone holding you so you can run away."

"Running away sounds good to me," agreed Taylor. "I think I'll actually take up running too." She patted her belly. "I might want to firm this up, or I'll look like an upright frog in my costume." Everyone chuckled at that.

"So have you decided on names for yourselves?" asked Danny.

"Not really," confessed Taylor. "There's not many bug-related names that don't sound creepy or villainous."

"Yeah," agreed Emma. "And my hair _is_ basically my power. What do you call that?"

"Dreadlocks," suggested Danny.

"Static," said Alan.

"Medusa," Taylor offered.

"Ew, no," said Emma. "Medusa had snakes. Speaking of villain names. No thanks."

"Siren," suggested Danny suddenly.

"How does that fit?" asked Taylor. "Emma doesn't sing."

"No," said Danny. "But sirens traditionally sat on rocks, coming their long hair."

Emma frowned. "A little too obscure for me." She looked pensive. "Rapunzel, maybe?"

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down you hair," quoted Alan with a grin.

"I suppose," said Danny. "But I think I like Static better. Or Spark."

"Spark," said Emma. "I like Spark."

Danny nodded. "Okay, how about Taylor, now?"

"Um," said Emma.

"Swarm?" said Alan. Taylor shook her head.

"Hive?" suggested Danny. Taylor shook her head again.

"Um, Skitter?" said Emma. Taylor looked at her, she looked back, and they said in chorus, "Nope."

"Insect Girl? Miss Bug?" suggested Alan.

"No," said Danny, his face lighting up. "Ladybug."

"Ladybug," said Emma. "I like it."

"Ladybug," agreed Taylor. "Let's see, red costume, black spots, maybe a helmet patterned after a ladybug."

"Okay, so Ladybug and Spark," said Danny. He paused, his face looking pensive. "Look, up till now, this has been more of a game than anything else, but I'm sure Alan's with me on this. Are you girls _absolutely certain_ you want to go out there and do this thing? We can't convince you to wait a couple of years, until you're at least eighteen?"

Emma took a deep breath. "I'm sure."

Taylor nodded. "Me too. There are bad people out there, Dad. If we can make a difference ..."

Alan frowned. "Actually, I'm wondering about something. When you were offered a place in the Wards, Emma, you turned them down flat. And over the last two and a half years, ever since you got your powers, you never went out to use them even once. Why are you thinking about it now?"

Emma smiled at her father. "Simple. I didn't want to start doing anything where Taylor couldn't be there to give me a hand."

Taylor got up and walked around the table. When she reached where Emma was sitting, she gave her friend a heartfelt hug. "Thanks," she said softly, her voice just a little muffled. "That's maybe the nicest thing anyone's said to me, in ... a long time."

Emma reached up and hugged her back. "You're my best friend. What else could I do?"

* * *

After a while, Danny went and fetched the board game. It was fun and interesting, and they played till late in the night, braving outbreaks in Baghdad and epidemics in Hong Kong, to wring victory from the very jaws of defeat.

* * *

Madison stared at them both. "Oh, no _way,"_ she exclaimed, but kept her voice down so as to not draw attention in the crowded cafeteria.

Taylor grinned and nodded. "Yes way."

"So wait ... you _both_ have powers?"

Taylor and Emma nodded cheerfully, in unison.

Madison shook her head. "I am _so jealous_ right now. How did you get them?"

Emma took a deep breath. "It's not fun," she admitted. "You have to go through a really horrible experience. You have to basically _know_ that you're gonna die, before something happens, the switch flicks, and you have powers."

Madison frowned. "So ... you have to basically think you're about to die? Um ... so why has the entire Modern History class not gained powers yet?"

Emma and Taylor both burst out laughing.

"It's okay, Mads," said Taylor, still giggling. "You can still hang with us. We'll let you be our token normal."

Madison stuck her tongue out at her.

* * *

Two Days Later

* * *

Taylor's eyes were wide as she stared around at the PRT building. "Oh, wow," she said. "I'm here. I'm actually _here."_

"Yeah," agreed Madison. "Isn't it awesome?"

"It is indeed," agreed Aegis, offering them a pleasant smile. He glanced at Emma, who was looking around with almost as much interest, and lowered his voice to an undertone. "So ... do they ..." His eyes flicked to Taylor and Madison.

"Oh, they know," said Emma cheerfully. "They're my best friends. Though if I went visiting the _Wards _without inviting them along, that might have changed." She had discussed the matter with Taylor and Madison earlier, and they had decided to not let anyone know about Taylor's powers quite yet.

"If you'd done that," Madison growled mock-threateningly, "I would never have spoken to you ever again."

Aegis grinned. "Well, it's good to meet all three of you, but I've got duties to get to." A door opened, and a costumed girl entered, perhaps four or five years younger than Emma. "I'd like you to meet Vista. She can handle your tour." He nodded to the newcomer. "Vista, I'd like you to meet Emma Barnes, Taylor Hebert and Madison Clements." He pointed them each out in turn. "Emma's the one who beat up on Shadow Stalker two weeks ago. Taylor's the one that Sophia was giving all the grief to."

Vista was wearing a green and teal costume in the form of a dress, with armour panels and a green visor over her eyes. She also looked about eleven years old.

"Hi," she said, seeming a little reserved. "I'm very pleased to meet you." She paused. "I'm curious; how exactly did you do it? She's normally very good at not being hit."

"Two words," said Aegis with a grin. "Taser hair." He nodded to the group. "Have fun, gotta go." The door hissed shut behind him.

"Taser hair? Really?" asked Vista. "That sounds ... interesting. Would you be able to demonstrate?"

"Okay," said Emma obligingly, and let her hair grow out to its full extent. She was sure it was longer than it had been when she first manifested it, nearly three years previously. It spread out from her head in a vast cloud, waving gently as if suspended underwater. Ripples and sparks of energy ran through it.

She separated it into several large tendrils, basically so she could see what she was doing, and brought two up between her and Vista. When the tips of the tendrils were a foot apart, she exerted her power, and a large spark went _pop_, quite loudly, between the tips. There was the sharp smell of ozone.

Vista jumped and looked startled, even as Emma retracted her hair. "That was ... very impressive," she said. "Can you project it?"

Emma nodded. "Sorry, but it's a touch only thing." She grinned. "And it's hell on my split ends." She paused. "Actually, I'm joking. Using my power doesn't affect my hair in the slightest. And it's really hard to damage when it's grown out, I'm not sure why."

"So what are you going to call yourself?" asked Vista. "And does your hair actually grow, or expand, or whatever, or do you just create more of it out of nothing?"

"Um, I'm thinking of Spark for the name," said Emma. "And does it matter how my hair gets that way, so long as it does?"

"Oh, sure," said Vista. "There's all sorts of inferences you can make about your powers and their consequences if you know how it works." She paused. "Well anyway," she went on, "you didn't come here to talk about how your powers work. You came here to see the Wards base, and meet us in person too, I guess."

"Well, yeah," said Emma. "Armsmaster wanted me to join the Wards." She shrugged. "Probably to make up for me having Sophia kicked out."

Unexpectedly, Vista grinned at her. "Well, just between you and me, I'm not totally surprised about what happened. She never _quite_ broke the rules here, but she could be a bit unpleasant from time to time, especially if things weren't going her way." She sighed. "Still, it means we lose our infiltration expert." She looked from Madison to Taylor. "So ... Taylor?' she began.

"Yeah?" Taylor acknowledged.

"Did she really shut you in a locker? And did it really have all that ... stuff in it?"

Taylor nodded, her face growing taut. "Yeah," she said flatly. "I ... really don't want to talk about it."

Emma pulled her into a hug. Taylor relaxed, putting her arms around her friend.

"It was a really horrible time for her," Emma explained over Taylor's shoulder.

"Ah," said Vista. "Sorry." She looked around, for something to say. "Hey," she said. "Why don't we go to the cafeteria? We've got ice cream," she added brightly.

Madison grinned. "I like ice cream." Emma nodded and smiled in agreement, and even Taylor managed a weak smile.

"So let's go have some ice cream," Vista declared.

* * *

The ice cream was good; Emma and Madison chatted with Vista about inconsequential subjects, and gradually, Taylor joined in, with something like her previous enthusiasm.

As they left the cafeteria, Vista turned to the other three. "Where would you like to see next?" she asked. The PRT side, or where the Wards live?"

"Wards," said Madison promptly.

Emma nodded. "Wards, I think," she agreed. "Taylor?"

Taylor smiled. "Well, duh, Wards," she said cheerfully.

Vista nodded. "A few of them might be in. Aegis is busy, but you've already met him. I'll introduce you to anyone else we meet."

Madison cleared her throat. "Umm ..." she said.

"Yes?" said Vista.

"Would it be totally rude if I asked them for autographs?" said Madison. "And you too?" She pulled a slim book out of her purse. "I ... kind of brought this ... but I haven't had the nerve to ask until now." She opened to a page where a scrap of paper was pasted into it. "Emma got me Armsmaster's autograph, but I'd really love to have you and the other Wards' as well ... if that's okay?"

Vista chuckled. "Sure, I can sign that for you." She turned to Taylor. "Would you like an autograph too?"

Taylor grinned. "Sure," she said. "Why not?"

So Vista signed the book, and then a piece of paper that Taylor found in her purse, which turned out to be the back of a shopping list. And then they moved on.

"Well, this is the general living area for the Wards," said Vista. She paused outside the door to press a large green button with a stylised domino mask on it. A muted alarm sounded through the door; Vista waited. She appeared to be counting under her breath.

"What's that for?" asked Taylor.

"Uh, it's a warning that there are non-Wards on the premises, and anyone without a mask should cover up," Vista explained. She smiled at Emma. "If and when you join, of course, you won't have to worry about people masking up for you."

"So wait," said Madison with a giggle. "We could walk in there, and Kid Win or someone could be coming out of the shower with just a mask and a towel on?" She looked intrigued. "Maybe I should have brought my camera."

Vista shook her head. "They wouldn't have let you bring it in. Your phones were held, weren't they?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah, but I thought that was a general 'no communications devices' thing. Like in airplanes."

Vista shook her head. "Phone calls are fine. Taking pictures of the inside of the base, not so fine. Taking pictures of Wards without their masks on, or in various stages of undress, really not so fine." A pause. "Though, come to think of it, Clockblocker would probably _pose."_ She seemed to reach a decision. "Okay, that's long enough." Leaning forward, she let a retina scanner read through her visor; the door hissed open.

* * *

The first person they met was a tall, slim girl with vaguely Oriental features under her visor, and a costume with detailing reminiscent of downward-pointing arrows or darts. Across her back was slung something that looked like a large crossbow with some kind of crank on it. She looked at the girls with interest as they entered.

"Ah, Flechette," said Vista. "I'd like you to meet Emma Barnes, Taylor, uh, Herbert?"

"Hebert," corrected Taylor with a smile. "It's a common mistake."

"Hebert, that's right," agreed Vista. "And Madison Clements."

"Nice to meet you," said Flechette, with a warm smile. "So, are you joining us or something? I seem to recall Emma's name ..."

"I haven't actually decided yet," admitted Emma. "I'm the one who was in the trouble with Shadow Stalker. Director Piggot and Armsmaster said I could visit and tour the base, and of course I couldn't do that without my friends. Especially Taylor, who was the one Shadow Stalker was giving all the grief to. I think she's earned it, don't you?"

"Oh, definitely," said Flechette. She gave Taylor a sympathetic look. "I didn't know Shadow Stalker, but what she did was just wrong. Something should have been done. Someone should have taken notice."

Taylor shrugged. "How could anyone know?" she asked. "She was only doing it in her civilian identity, in the school. I mean, outside, sometimes I'd get the feeling someone was following me or stalking me, but nothing much ever happened. She was really careful never to let me see her in costume when she was harassing me."

Flechette nodded. "Still," she said. "I feel kinda responsible. She was a Ward, after all."

"Don't let it bother you," said Taylor. "I survived, and now it's done." She breathed deeply. "I still have nightmares from time to time, but not _every_ night now, thank God."

Flechette frowned. "Wait, what, were you the one ...?"

Vista leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Emma only caught the word 'locker'. Flechette's eyes went wide.

"That was _you?"_ she exclaimed. "Oh, geez, I'm sorry. I should have realised."

Taylor laughed wearily. "It's okay," she said. "Really. You can stop apologising now. You weren't to blame, you didn't do any of it." But she had wrapped her arms around herself, and her voice had an uncertain wobble in it.

Emma recognised the signs, and took her in her arms. "Can we have someplace to sit down, please?" she asked. "And some privacy?"

Vista found them a chair, and Emma sat Taylor down in it. Taylor was shaking quite violently now, and she began to weep uncontrollably as Emma knelt beside the chair, holding her. For her part, Emma spoke softly and soothingly, rubbing her back gently and stroking her hair.

And then she felt another set of arms go around them both; she looked around in surprise. Madison gave her a concerned look. "Hey, it can't hurt, right?" she said quietly.

Emma smiled gratefully at her; she didn't need to answer.

* * *

Taylor came out of it reasonably quickly; these episodes, Emma noted, were happening less and less, and were of a shorter duration each time. But they were still very wrenching on both Taylor and herself.

Tissues were procured from somewhere, and eyes and noses were wiped. Taylor was looking better already by the time she got up from the chair; only a redness around her eyes betrayed her breakdown.

By now, a third Ward had joined the other two; a tall young man in a white costume which featured animated clocks wandering to and fro upon it, and a helmet with an opaque faceplate. Emma recognised him as Clockblocker, the perennial jokester of the Wards.

"What did you do to her, Flechette?" said Clockblocker. "You didn't give her the line about how she just missed Gallant doing his table-top dance number in his skivvies, did you?"

That jerked a reluctant laugh from Taylor and Emma both, while Madison giggled. "I'd pay money to see _that,"_ she said.

"So would I," sighed Vista. She looked around guiltily. "I mean ..."

"It's okay," said Clockpblocker. "We know you're carrying a torch for him."

"In fact, I think the only one who doesn't know is Gallant himself," added Flechette.

"Um, he knows," said Vista awkwardly. "He senses emotions, remember?" She blushed vividly. "He was so _nice_ about it, too."

"Gallant, even," added Clockblocker. Everyone groaned. "What?"

"Well, at least Glory Girl doesn't know," ventured Flechette, with an apologetic look at Vista. "Which is probably a good thing."

"Why is that a good thing?" asked Emma curiously.

"Because she's Gallant's girlfriend, and she has ... let's say ... anger issues," explained Clockblocker.

"Oh," said Taylor. "Oh. That could be bad." She seemed to be recovering well now, but didn't seem to mind Emma keeping an arm around her waist.

"It's not fair," said Vista. "I've been a Ward longer than most of the guys here. Longer than Clockblocker or Kid Win, nearly as long as Aegis. But because I'm the youngest, no-one notices me. I didn't even have a chance with Gallant, once Glory Girl set her sights on him."

"Wow," said Madison. "How long have you been a Ward?"

"A bit over a year now," Vista said. "Since I was eleven."

Emma stared. "How old are you _now?"_

"Nearly thirteen," said Vista defensively. "Look, I'm a late bloomer, okay?" She looked down at herself morosely. "Everyone else I know around my age is showing _something_; I barely even need a training bra."

"Hey," said Taylor. "Trust me. I _know_ what you're going through." She nodded at Vista's lack of development. "When I was your age, I had less than that. And meanwhile, _Emma_ ..." She sighed. "Unfair's not the half of it."

"Hey hey," said Emma. "I can't help it if I have more assets than most."

"Whoa, whoa," said Clockblocker, holding his hands up. "Much as I like to talk about girls' assets, I really don't think this is a conversation I'm supposed to be taking part in. And I'm feeling kind of outnumbered here."

He tipped them a sketchy salute. "I'll be elsewhere, ladies. Just remember; if you feel the need to take them out and compare, I'll be willing to offer my services as an impartial judge." With that, he escaped.

Flechette began to giggle. "Oh, man," she said. "I wish I could have seen his face under the helmet."

Vista shook her head. "Take them out and compare, indeed. That boy is an immature, disgusting pig."

Flechette grinned. "That _boy_ is three or four years older than you are."

Vista shook her head. "Doesn't stop him from being immature and disgusting. Or a pig."

Madison giggled. "You _did_ start the conversation about ... assets," she pointed out.

"And trust me," said Emma to Vista. "With this level of development?" She indicated her not inconsequential bosom. "If I ever go out superheroing, I will be definitely wearing a sports bra. Because otherwise, any sort of running, jumping, stuff like that? Absolutely no fun whatsoever." She nodded to Vista. "You and Taylor? You're _lucky_ in that regard."

"She's right, you know," observed Flechette. "I might not be as ... asset-rich ... as Emma is, but given any level of development whatsoever, a sports bra is a definite requirement for rooftop running."

Vista sighed. "Yeah, but still," she said. "With a chest like mine, guys treat me like I'm still a kid. And I want them to _notice_ me!"

"You'll get there," said Emma, cheerfully comfortable in the knowledge that she was already 'there'. "After all, we are women. And women all share the superpower of boobs."

Everyone started laughing at that; Flechette managed to add, "If boobs were a super-power, Emma, you'd be an S-class threat!" They laughed harder.

Across the living area, Clockblocker looked up from his computer terminal as the laughter broke out._They're laughing at me, aren't they?_ he told himself. _Yeah, they're laughing at me. I think I'll just stay out of this one._

* * *

That Evening

* * *

"Wow," said Madison. "That was kinda cool. The Wards are really fun to be around." She waved her autograph book. "And they all signed. Even Clockblocker."

"Yeah," said Taylor. She looked up from where she was sitting on the floor to where Emma was lounging on the sofa. "I think Flechette was checking out _your_ assets there, Ems. You might have an admirer."

"Wait, what?" said Emma, looking slightly flustered. "Flechette? Really?"

Madison nodded. "Really and truly. I kinda noticed it myself." She grinned. "She gave me a bit of a once up and down too." She stretched luxuriantly, lying on the richly carpeted floor of the Barnes house. "I think it's sort of flattering, myself. And if I ever decided to switch teams, I know who I could go to for a reference."

"Not me," said Emma firmly. "I like boys too much." She smiled. "Though you're right; it _is_ kinda flattering, in a weird sort of way."

"You realise," said Madison, "once Ladybug and Spark start their career as daredevil superheroes, everyone on the Parahumans Online boards will be automatically assuming that you're a couple." She grinned at the expressions on their faces. "There'll be more shipping online than there is in the Bay."

Taylor and Emma both threw cushions at her.

* * *

To be continued ...


	5. Chapter 5

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Five: Dance, Baby, Dance

* * *

Emma sat on the floor of the Hebert household, leaning back against the sofa. Taylor lay on her back on the sofa, her legs up against the wall and the back of her head resting on Emma's shoulder. She was resting a sketch-pad up against her legs and drawing on it.

Madison lounged at the far end of the sofa, her legs curled under her as she sketched on her own pad, trying to capture the odd postures of Taylor and Emma. For her part, Emma had some hair strands extended; she had her hands resting in her lap and was trying to thread a needle using only her hair, and was not doing too well at it. Single strands of hair, she could easily insert through the eye of the needle, but manipulating both thread and needle at the same time was harder than it looked.

"How about this, then?" asked Taylor, handing down the sketch-pad to Emma.

Two more tendrils of hair reached up and took the sketch-pad, and brought it to rest in front of Emma. She studied Taylor's efforts critically.

"Not bad," she said eventually, "but there are still some changes that need to be done."

"What?" said Taylor. "Where?"

In the next moment, she found herself being lifted, turned and placed on the floor beside Emma, courtesy of the redhead's hair-tendrils. "Hey!" she protested. "I was comfortable!"

"You were also in totally the wrong place for me to show you where you went wrong," pointed out Emma.

"Okay," said Taylor, "so show me."

"One of the things I learned when I was doing modelling," said Emma, "was that anything you wear should be good for walking, running, crouching, bending over and twisting. Otherwise you can get into awkward situations, with dishevelled clothes at best and wardrobe malfunctions at worst."

She tapped her nail on a point. "See this breastplate thingy? I like how it fills your body out, but it extends too far down, and is too close up to your chin. Crouch down, and you've just jammed it up under your chin, and probably bitten your tongue."

"Oh, right," said Taylor.

"I do like the arm-guards," said Emma, "but they shouldn't extend so far over the wrists. If you want to bring your hand back –" she demonstrated with her own slim hand, " – then that would get in the way."

"Okay, arm-guards smaller, check," said Taylor. "Anything else?"

"Well, I do like the helmet," said Emma. "But the bit hanging down the back, is it flexible, or rigid and hinged? Because you might want to look up from time to time."

"I was thinking flexible," said Taylor.

"Then it's good," agreed Emma. "Gives you protection but lets you move unhindered."

"Thanks," said Taylor. "Now I just have to get the measurements, and start the spiders to work." She paused. "Hey, Mads," she said, looking at the far end of the sofa, "I called you up last night, to see if you wanted to hang, and your dad said you were out. What gives?"

Madison blushed slightly. "I was on a date," she said defensively. "It's no big deal."

Emma frowned. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone, Mads," she said. "I mean, I'm glad and all that you've got a social life, unlike me and Taylor, but ... was he anyone we know from school?"

Madison's blush deepened slightly. "Not from school, no," she admitted. "It was, uh, someone from outside school. And it's a girl."

Taylor and Emma both sat up, staring at Madison. "No _way,"_ breathed Emma.

"Um, Mads, I thought you liked boys," ventured Taylor carefully.

"I do," said Madison. "I've kissed boys before, and I liked it. But ... well ... I met her awhile ago, so I sort of called up on Saturday and asked to speak to her, and we got to talking, and she was really nice on the phone, so when she asked if I wanted to go get a bite to eat, I said sure."

"I'm stunned," said Emma.

"Flabbergasted," put in Taylor.

"What happened then?" pressed Emma.

"Yeah!" prompted Taylor. "Was it all romantic and stuff?"

"No!" protested Madison. "We just went to a burger bar and sat there talking. She's really nice to talk to. Told me lots of funny stories about the – the people she's worked with." She stopped talking, her face suffused with pink.

"Well?" said Emma, making 'go on' motions. "Give with the juicy stuff."

Taylor grinned. "Full disclosure. We want it all."

"That was it," said Madison. "I went home, and she went back to – to where she's living."

"Uh huh ..." said Emma. "And what are you hiding?"

Madison's face was now flaming crimson. "She might have kissed me, just a bit, before I came home."

Taylor's lips shaped a soundless whistle. "And of course you fought her off and told her that you weren't that sort of girl."

"No," mumbled Madison. "I kinda kissed her back. It was nice."

"No way!" said Taylor. "I thought you said you were into boys!"

"I am, I am," said Madison uncomfortably. "But ... I think I might like girls too." She lowered her head. "It was really nice."

Emma smiled. "So, are you going to be seeing her again?"

Madison mumbled something into the neckline of her shirt.

"I'm sorry," said Taylor, "but we didn't quite get that." She was grinning broadly.

"I said, next Saturday night," muttered Madison. "We're going dancing."

"And you weren't going to invite _us_ along?" demanded Emma.

Madison looked up. "I didn't think you'd want to come," she confessed. "You don't have anyone to go with."

Taylor grinned. "Silly Madison," she said. "Sure we do. Each other."

Madison stared. "But I know you like boys, Emma," she said, "and I'm fairly certain you do too, Tails."

"Oh yeah," said Emma. "Solid hetero, both of us. But that doesn't mean we can't _dance_ with each other."

"Or with you," put in Taylor. "Or your girlfriend."

"We want to meet her properly," said Emma.

"Give her the third degree," agreed Taylor.

"Make sure that her intentions are honourable," added Emma.

"Or get juicy details if they aren't," grinned Taylor.

"Just so long as she intends to treat you right," continued Emma.

"Or at least show you a good time," concluded Taylor.

Madison stared at them, stunned by the rapid-fire back-and-forth delivery. "But ... you don't _mind?"_ she asked.

"Mind? That our best friend has found someone to be with?" asked Emma. "Why the hell should we mind?"

"What we _mind_ is not being told," Taylor said severely. "We want to meet your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," muttered Madison. "We've only kissed the once."

"Still want to meet her," said Emma cheerfully. "What's her name?"

Madison looked warily at them. "You know, if I tell you, you can't tell _anyone,"_ she warned them.

Taylor shrugged. "Okay. We don't tell anyone. Ems?"

Emma nodded. "Cross my heart. Now spill."

Madison smiled slightly. "Her name is Lily."

* * *

"Now, here are the ground rules," said Alan Barnes, leaning over the table. He had a map of the city on the table, and he was drawing on it with erasable marker. "Stay away from the Merchants if you can. Those people are really, really nasty. They don't even abide by the unwritten rules that everyone else does."

"Empire Eighty-Eight, too," added Danny Hebert. "I've been reading up on them, and they've got some really big hitters. Hookwolf could chew you both up and spit you out, Purity's a blaster with flight powers, and Kaiser's pretty scary too. Neither of you are on their target list, but you don't want to get them angry at you."

"Wait, wait," said Emma. "Dad ... Danny ... if we decide to never mess with any of the criminal gangs in the city, we'd never set foot outdoors. They aren't going to go out hell-for-leather to avenge one of their thugs being taken down."

"S'right," mumbled Taylor around a mouthful of cookie. She swallowed, and went on. "So long as we only disrupt their small-scale stuff, and don't pose a real danger to them, we should be too much trouble to hunt down and kill."

Alan frowned, but conceded the point. "Okay then. You'll be operating within a radius of our respective houses then, all right?" He drew freehand circles around each of the Hebert and Barnes residences, large enough to overlap and take in a good portion of the city.

"Each night you go out, you inform us. One or both of us will stay on call. We'll drop you off someplace quiet, and if you need help or immediate pickup, _call."_ His face showed his worry. "I know it sounds restrictive, but if you're set on doing this, then we're going to help you as much as we can."

"Me too," piped up Madison from the other end of the table. "I've got my license, so I could drive someone somewhere, or pick someone up if it came to that."

Danny shook his head. "No, Madison. I appreciate the offer – we all appreciate the offer – but it's too dangerous."

"Why?" insisted Madison stubbornly. "They're my friends too, and I want to help." She stared at Emma appealingly. "You know I'm willing to help you, any way I can."

Emma looked back at her, and recalled the scene in the locker room, Madison standing up to Sophia and her cronies, claiming to be gay in order to take the heat off of Emma and Taylor. She smiled to herself. _You were more right than you knew._

She nodded. "I get that, I do," she agreed. "Dad ... Danny ... maybe Madison could ride along with you, be a lookout or a spotter or something. I think she's earned it."

"I'm better at first aid than either of you big-time superheroes too," Madison pointed out. "So I'm useful there, too."

"Well, I hope it never comes to that," commented Danny. "But it makes sense."

"Yay!" exclaimed Madison. "I get to be a sidekick!"

Alan Barnes frowned. "But you do exactly what we tell you, understand? No showboating. None."

Madison nodded. "I'll be good," she said. "If I screw up, my two best friends might get hurt. So I won't screw up."

* * *

The underage dance was being held in a community hall, sponsored by Winslow and Arcadia high schools. Teachers from both schools were there to keep order, as were some college students. When Taylor and Danny arrived, there were plenty of people there, and quite a few cars in the carpark.

Taylor climbed out of the truck, wondering if she should have gone with jeans after all. But Emma had insisted on a dress for her. The dress was black, with red trim, and Emma and Madison had spent an hour making her hair look nice. A red hairband completed her ensemble.

"You look beautiful, kiddo," Danny said. "Go have fun. I'll be back at ten."

"Thanks, Dad," she said, and gave him a hug. "Sure you don't want to stay?"

He shook his head. "I trust you to not do anything really stupid, and anyway, I've got some paperwork to sort out." He shook his head. "Fred screwed up the rosters pretty badly, so I'm gonna be up half the night unscrewing them."

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and climbed back into the truck. The engine rattled into life, and he pulled out of the parking space.

* * *

Taylor walked toward the lit-up community hall, glad she had worn flats instead of heels, as the crumbling asphalt crunched under her soles. She had been running every morning for weeks now, and she could feel that her wind was better, and her muscles were more toned; however, she knew that if she had to run, she would be better off taking off the shoes.

_Why am I even thinking like that?_ she asked herself. _This isn't a superhero outing. This is a dance that I'm attending with my friends._

But all the same, she found herself accessing the senses of the insects and other 'bugs' in the area, locating them and building up a picture of the surroundings. She still had trouble making a coherent image with any detail, but she was getting better with practise.

"Taylor! There you are!" called out Madison. Taylor turned, and there she was, wearing a deep sea-green dress with a blue wrap around her shoulders. A necklace made of seashells depended around her neck, each one lacquered a different colour, all contrasting nicely with her dress.

Taylor went over to her, and they hugged; moments later, they spotted Emma approaching as well. Emma had gone with a deep maroon creation that set off her hair, which was itself gathered in fanciful coils on her head, with artfully dangling strands here and there. Taylor would have sworn that it had taken three solid hours to prepare, but she knew that Emma could just concentrate and her hair would arrange itself just so. _Which I still think is totally unfair._

"So, is Lily here yet?" asked Taylor.

Madison shook her head. "She said she'd meet me here. It's not past time yet."

As Emma got up to them, she smiled widely at Madison. "I love your dress! Where did you get it from? It brings out your eyes so well!"

Madison smiled shyly. "It was on special. I just liked the look of it."

Emma nodded firmly. "You have good taste. I love it."

"Madison!" came another voice. All three girls turned, to see a tall slim girl with an Oriental cast to her features walking toward them. She was clad in a midnight-black sheath that was split up one side to show an amazing length of thigh. Her long dark hair was arranged in a tasteful fall over one shoulder, and she smiled warmly in greeting.

Taylor frowned. She thought there was something familiar about the girl ...

"Guys, this is Lily," said Madison. "Lily, this is Taylor and Emma." She seemed to be trying to hold back laughter, as if there was a joke that only she was privy to.

Lily smiled. "It's really good to meet you," she said, then continued, "... again."

"We've met before?" asked Emma blankly. "I don't think ..."

The penny dropped for Taylor, an instant before Madison burst out laughing.

"Madison, you _didn't!"_ she exclaimed.

Madison, still laughing, nodded her head vigorously, sending her shoulder-length brown hair dancing about her face.

Emma blinked a couple of times, then held up her hand in front of her eyes, as if shading them. "Oh, wait!" she said. "You're ..." She bit back the next word.

Lily nodded. "I am, yes," she agreed. "Madison wanted to see how long it would take you to realise, but she let the cat out of the bag by laughing, I'm afraid."

"I got it, just before she laughed," said Taylor. "I _thought_ your voice sounded familiar." She smiled at Lily. "So, you and Mads are a thing, huh?"

"Well, not as such, not yet," said Lily with a private smile. "But ... we shall see."

She took Madison by the arms and leaned down slightly to kiss her gently on the lips. Madison closed her eyes and sighed, putting her arms around Lily and holding her close.

"For someone who's never kissed a girl before last Saturday, you're certainly taking to it," observed Emma with a grin.

Madison opened her eyes and turned to face Emma. "The boys I've kissed have all been about shoving their lips at mine, and then groping me, like it's a videogame and kissing me unlocks the ability to grope. I mean, I really enjoyed the kisses, but I wanted them to last, you know?" She smiled, leaning her head into Lily's shoulder. "Lily knows how to make a kiss last."

"It certainly looks like it," grinned Taylor. "You look like your feet are about three inches off the ground."

Madison giggled, then disentangled herself from Lily so that she could take the taller girl's arm. Emma courteously held out her elbow for Taylor to take, whereupon Taylor smiled and took it.

"Let's go dancing," said Emma, and led the way.

* * *

Emma danced with Taylor at first; it was a fast-moving, flowing dance which required both participants to be fast on their feet and quick with their reflexes. Nearby, Lily and Madison were enjoying themselves immensely; Taylor noted that Madison was leading and Lily was following her movements exactly.

After a while, they stopped to get something to drink; Madison's wrap had proved unnecessary in the warmth generated by perhaps a hundred dancing teenagers. They got cups of punch from a large bowl; Taylor was dubious about this, until she noted the teacher who was keeping a careful eye on it.

"Wow," said Madison, fanning her wrap in front of her face. "This is lots of fun!" She smiled at Lily. "Thanks for inviting me. This is a real blast."

Lily grinned in return. "I'm enjoying myself too, Madison. You dance really well." She reached out and caressed Madison's cheek with one long-fingered hand. Madison turned her face into nuzzle Lily's palm, then reached up to put her hand on the back of Lily's neck, and pulled her head down for a kiss. Lily was just reciprocating when someone cleared her throat just behind them.

"Excuse _me,"_ said a severe adult voice, "no inappropriate displays of affection on the premises, thank you very much."

All four girls turned to look; a teacher stood there, accompanied by a dark-skinned girl of Middle Eastern appearance. The girl looked at them apologetically. "Mrs Howell," she said, "it was only a kiss, really."

"It was still inappropriate," said Mrs Howell sternly. "This dance is supposed to be about young people meeting and socialising in a safe environment. Hugging is permitted; kissing and fondling is not. You should know that, Sabah." She turned back to Lily and Madison. "One of you must take a dance with someone else, to give your ardour time to settle."

Madison and Lily looked at each other, then Lily turned to Taylor. "Would you like to take this dance with me, Taylor?"

"Sure," said Taylor. "Anything to get you out of trouble."

"Thanks," grinned Lily. "See you soon, Mads."

* * *

This dance was a slower one, and couples circled the dancefloor in rough approximations of a waltz. With Lily's hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the steps, she found herself rather enjoying it.

"You've done this before," observed Lily.

"Yeah, Emma made me get lessons," confessed Taylor. "Even dragged me out to a few dances, so we could meet some nice boys."

"And how did that go?" asked Lily, sweeping her through a turn.

"About as well as you'd expect," grinned Taylor. "She met a nice boy. I didn't."

_But I still had fun,_ she recalled. _Just not enough fun to make it worth going again._

"I notice she doesn't have a boy on her arm tonight," observed Lily. "Are you and her ...?"

Taylor giggled. "Everyone keeps thinking that. No, we are not. He was a nice boy, but he moved out of town."

She looked down at her feet. "How are you _doing_ that?" she asked. "I know I'm not the greatest dancer in the world, but you're keeping perfect time with me."

"It's one of my minor powers, literally," Lily said. "Perfect timing. When I see you move, I can move with you."

"Huh, cool," said Taylor. She took a breath. "So, you and Madison. How serious is it?"

Lily gave her a penetrating look. "You care for her. I can respect that. She's a sweet girl. I like her, and I'm attracted to her." She shrugged. "Long term? Not sure. I'm new in town, and I may meet someone I like more. I don't want to disappoint her or hurt her, but I've made no promises so far."

She looked over Taylor's shoulder and smiled. "And there, I think, is the answer to the other question, the one you didn't ask her."

Taylor glanced backward, to see Madison dancing with a boy she knew vaguely from Winslow. She seemed to be rather enjoying herself; the boy seemed to be having a good time too. _Huh, she does get the best of both worlds._

"So I see," replied Taylor. "Well, you've been totally fair and open. I appreciate it." She leaned in and kissed Lily on the cheek as the dance ended. "Thanks for the dance."

Lily smiled. "No, thank _you_. And thanks for being nice about it."

* * *

They headed back toward where Emma had been standing; she was still there, talking with the dark-haired girl who had been with the teacher.

"Oh, hi, Taylor, Lily," said Emma as they approached. "Sabah here's a fashion student. We were just comparing notes."

"It's interesting to find out about fashion from the point of view of the models," said Sabah; her accent was slight, but exotic enough to get Lily's attention.

Madison reappeared, slightly flushed and breathless from the dancing. But her eyes were bright, and she looked with interest at Lily. "Want to get another dance?" she asked.

"Okay," said Lily readily. She took Madison in her arms, and they moved off on to the dance floor.

* * *

Madison snuggled into Lily as they circled the floor. "Thanks for inviting me," she said softly. "I'm really enjoying myself."

Lily smiled down at her. "Madison ..." she said quietly.

"Yeah?" asked Madison, looking up at her.

Lily sighed. _This is not going to be easy._.. "What we have ..." She stopped, and began again. "I like you, and you like me, but I think we're looking for different things."

Madison looked at her, a little lost. "I guess?" she said doubtfully.

Lily leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. "Really," she said. "It's fun flirting with you, and I know you're enjoying it a lot, but I'll be wanting to get more serious than I think you'll be really comfortable with." She caressed Madison's cheek with her thumb. "I know you're not really serious about having a relationship with me ... or even sleeping with me, if it came to that."

Madison coloured. "I guess you're right," she said at last. "I hadn't really thought about it. I was just enjoying it too much. But no, I'm not after anything long-term or serious, especially not actually sleeping with anyone, even someone as nice as you." She paused. "Not yet, anyway."

Lily smiled. "A cute girl like you will find someone to be with, trust me on this."

Madison laid her head against Lily's chest. "I guess you're right. I suppose I got all excited over the idea of kissing girls, and forgot that there's more girls than you around. And boys too, for that matter."

Lily grinned. "You'll kiss a lot more, believe you me. And who knows, one day you might decide to settle down with someone nice."

Madison giggled. "Well, I can only keep looking, right?"

Lily smiled and kissed her gently again. "That's the spirit."

Madison kissed her back. "Friends?"

Lily held her close. "Always."

Madison snuggled in to her, and the rest of the dance went by in comfortable silence.

* * *

They grabbed a drink when they got back to the punch bowl, then Madison asked Lily hopefully if she wanted to go around again.

Lily smiled politely. "I'm a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll sit this next dance out," she said. "You can go ahead if you want." She moved over to stand near Sabah. "Hi," she said. "I'm Lily."

"Well, fine," said Madison, pretending to pout. "Be like that. Emma, I'm stealing you."

"Take me, I'm yours," giggled Emma, and Madison whirled her away.

Taylor grinned, watching them go, and was startled by a tap on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss? May I have this dance?" said a polite voice ... one that she knew.

She turned to see a student from Winslow High, his hand raised as if to tap again. As she watched, his face changed from polite interest to puzzlement to startled recognition.

"Taylor?" he queried. "Taylor _Hebert?"_

She sighed. "Hi, Greg," she said resignedly.

* * *

Greg Veder was a boy from Winslow, a bit of a geek and a loner like herself. When in classes without Emma – or lately, Madison – he had often been paired with her for class projects, as he had no real friends.

But whereas Taylor was happy to get the work done and end the partnership, Greg had tried to be _social_about it. And he sucked at being social. At best, he came across as so awkward as to make one want to hide under the desk. At worst, utterly creepy. And he had no idea that he was drifting into either extreme.

Also, Taylor recalled belatedly, he had no idea what a hint even _looked_ like.

"Taylor," he was saying, "I heard about the locker thing. That must have been awful!"

_And thank __**you**, Captain Obvious,_ she thought. _Because I had forgotten exactly how bad it was, and I __**so** wanted to be reminded._

She felt the trembles coming on, and steeled herself. _I will not cry in front of this boy,_ she told herself. _I will **not**._

With barely a quiver in her voice, she said, "Yes, thank you, Greg. It was just a little traumatic."

He hardly even heard her, his mind leaping on to the next topic like a hamster with ADHD. "And I heard this rumour that you and Emma were _lesbians!"_ He lowered his voice, but hissed the last word so loudly that several people looked around curiously.

She had to get him away from this spot. And so, she chose the lesser of two evils. Sighing, she said, "Greg, would you like to dance?"

* * *

Aegis hit the alarm button. Wards tumbled in from all locations; Clockblocker arrived wearing shampoo suds and a towel.

"Urgent call-out," reported Aegis. "Two weeks ago, Empire Eighty-Eight pulled a spoiler on an ABB operation. We just got word that the ABB is retaliating, hard. They lost a lot of mechandise the last time, so they're looking to make it up now."

"Merchandise?" asked Gallant.

"Girls," stated Aegis bluntly. "They're trafficking in girls. Word is, they're going to hit an underage dance, grab the girls, disappear into the night. One of our thinkers just put it all together. Oni Lee's across town causing havoc; the Protectorate's been decoyed out to chase him. This is down to us."

"Christ," said Kid Win. "Anyone seen Flechette?"

"She went out on a date," said Vista. "Said something about ... going ... dancing." Her voice trailed off. Her eyes reflected the horror in those of her teammates.

"Move!" barked Aegis. "Now!"

* * *

Once they were out on the dance floor, Greg picked up the conversation where he had left off. "I can't believe you're a lesbian, Taylor. You were always nice to me, and I always thought we had a ... connection."

He lowered his voice and drew out the last word, and Taylor felt her stomach clench. _And that's the other thing I forgot,_ she told herself. _Greg thinks I'm interested in him. Oh boy. I really do not need this._

He looked around. "So who did you come with?"

"Greg," she said carefully, "Emma asked me to come to this dance, as her partner."

He stared at her, like a kicked puppy. "You're really a lesbian?" he asked. "Oh, uh ..." Taking a deep breath, he said, "I support your choice. I think you're very brave to come out like this."

Taylor wanted to find a wall to beat her head against. _Even trying to be noble, he's so aggravating I want to run away screaming. Everyone else stopped talking about it weeks ago. If I let this go, he will start spreading it all over again. I do not __**need** __this._

Trying not to grind her teeth together, she said, "I'm not really gay, Greg. It's just a story that's going around. I don't _care_ if people think I'm gay, but I'm really not."

Rather than quelling his interest, he actually perked up. "So you're still interested in ... boys, then?"

"Yes, Greg," she replied, her patience starting to wear thin despite herself. "That's what not being lesbian _means."_

She realised her mistake seconds later, when his hand began wandering southward from the small of her back. "So," he said, apparently sounding roguish, at least to himself, "do you want to go and find somewhere ... private?"

_Oh crap,_ was the thought that went through her mind, _he thought I was coming __**on** __to him._

Such was her consternation that she almost _welcomed_ the sudden burst of gunfire that killed the music.

* * *

End of Part Five


	6. Chapter 6

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Six: The Party is Over, Now We Are Three

* * *

Before

* * *

Sabah stood at the door. Mrs Howell had put her there, with an admonition not to let anyone in without paying for the privilege. Her job was also to watch for adults trying to sneak in; if they weren't working here, as she was, she had to get them to show their school ID.

It had been really nice meeting Lily. The other girl was smart and beautiful and funny, and had a knowing way of looking at her that gave Sabah a warm feeling deep inside. Her parents and relatives were old-country and old-school, and there was no talking to them about the feelings she had. But Lily, she suspected, knew very well what she felt, and even perhaps reciprocated those feelings.

_It's certainly worth spending the time to find out,_ she thought, with a secret smile.

Lily had mentioned that she was thirsty, and had asked her if she wanted a drink as well. So of course she had smiled and accepted the offer. Lily had gone off through the crowd, moving easily and smoothly. Sabah had appreciated her back view before she was hidden by the press of people.

And then more people approached the door. She looked up with a smile and said, "Excuse me, but this is a private party. Do you have school identification?"

The young man at the head of the group nodded. "Yeah," he said in accented English. "I got identification." Leaning close in to the table, he reached into his jacket; it opened, and she saw that his hand was gripping the butt of a pistol.

"Are you going to let us in, or do I take it out and show you better?" he asked.

Her mind froze up. She had only just recently begun experimenting with animated cloth animals, and she had none here.

"Please," she quavered. "Don't hurt anyone. We have money. Take it, please."

"Yeah, we might," he said, and entered. Rounding the table, he stood at her side, holding her arm, grinning at her obvious fear, as more of his cronies entered.

_What do I _**_do?_** she asked herself. _What do they _**_want?_**

* * *

Lily pushed through the crowd to the punchbowl. Sabah was cute, and sweet, and adorably shy. She was so petite, it was hard to believe that she was older than Lily. But yet ... there was something about her, something that betrayed a loneliness. Loneliness that Lily recognised; she herself had felt on more than one occasion.

While Sabah had not said as much, it seemed to Lily that she had caught several glances filled with sharp interest. She wanted to know more, to see if Sabah really thought that way about her.

_I do believe I will ask her on a date. The worst that can happen is that she will say no ... and somehow I don't think that will happen._ Lily smiled as she reached the punch bowl and picked up a cup.

* * *

Emma and Madison circled the dance-floor. Madison seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, but there was something concerning Emma.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"What?" asked Madison, as the music hit a high point.

"I said, are you okay?" repeated Emma. "Lily seems to have abandoned you."

"Yeah, I know," said Madison with a fatalistic shrug. "She was nice, but I think we were both just seeing how we went together."

"I thought you went together quite well," Emma commented.

"She's fun to flirt with and kiss," said Madison, "but we had a talk and I'm not really after the same things in a relationship that she is." She shrugged again. "But I did enjoy meeting her." A grin. "And she's a wonderful kisser."

Emma grinned back. "So, have you met any nice boys?"

"Nice ones?" asked Madison. "No. Hot ones? Yes." She grinned. "I might try kissing some of them. Just for comparison purposes, you understand."

Emma chuckled. "Of course."

* * *

Taylor glared at Greg.

* * *

During

* * *

The Azn Bad Boys moved into the centre casually, easing along the walls. When most of their number were inside, spread out along the walls, their nominal leader stepped up to the stereo system that was supplying the music, pulled his pistol, and pumped several rounds into it.

Everyone turned at the gunshots as the music spluttered to a halt. There was a moderate amount of screaming. He called out over the hubbub, his voice loud and harsh, with Asian intonations.

"Everyone, down on the ground! Hands where we can see them! We hear sirens, we shoot people! Down! Down! Down!"

People started lowering themselves to the ground; slowly at first, to try to protect their good clothes, impatiently, he fired two more gunshots into the ceiling. After that, they hugged the ground.

Taylor ran through all the curse words she knew in her head, then started again. _This is the last time I go **anywhere** __without a sizeable swarm at my command. Even if I'm just going out for a burger._

There was a substantial number of spiders in the ceiling of the community centre, however. Not so many mosquitoes around, and very few bees or other stinging insects. January wasn't so good for that. _I'll have to make do._

She began bringing the spiders into groups, putting together an ad hoc swarm. There were holes allowing access to the ceiling space; the spiders could get out that way.

Greg went to lie down beside her, then started to half-crawl on _top_ of her.

"Greg!" she hissed. "What are you _doing?"_

"Protecting you if they start shooting!" he hissed back.

_If they want to kill me, they'll shoot you, roll your body off me and __**then** __shoot me,_ she didn't say. "Get _off _me!" she whispered, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. He looked hurt but got off her.

* * *

Lily spun around at the first shot. She saw the young men arranged along the walls and felt sick. _We are in **so** __much trouble._

The order was given to get down on the floor. Thinking quickly, she grabbed a handful of discarded plastic butter-knives from the table, then obediently got down on the ground.

* * *

Emma was still dancing with Madison when the gunfire went off. She turned, shocked, along with everyone else. "Emma?" quavered Madison.

"Sh," said Emma, just as the command to lie down was given. She hated to do this to the dress, but if it was her or the dress that was to survive ... well, she could always get another dress.

Madison was looking particularly nervous, for which Emma did not blame her. "I'm sorry I got you into this," she whispered.

Emma squeezed her hand supportively. "It's okay," she whispered. "We'll get out of this." She didn't feel as certain as she sounded, but she had to keep Madison calm. Raising her head slightly, she tried to keep an eye on what was going on.

* * *

Kenta strode in through the entrance to the community centre, flanked by two of his men. He had to duck slightly to avoid the lintel. _This is good_, he thought. _That Empire bitch Purity released our last shipment. She tried to tell us that we could not transact business here in Brockton Bay. She will learn that the ABB do business where and when we like. And if that means a few white girls disappear from a dance in Brockton Bay, destined for Thai brothels, then so be it. We __**will** __have our way._

"All of you, be quiet!" he commanded, his voice quelling the whimpers and sobs that had been arising from the supine dancers. "Some of you will be coming with us. The rest of you will not be harmed – _so long as those that come do not resist._ The ransom demands will be delivered shortly."

_Let them think of this as a simple kidnapping,_ he thought, with a smile behind the metal mask. _By the time they learn otherwise, it will be far, far too late._

He turned to the men flanking the door. "Start sending them out," he said in Chinese. "When we have enough, kill the rest. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong."

"It will be hard to make it look like a robbery," protested one of the men in the same language. "It will look suspicious."

"All we need to do is muddy the trail a little. Take their jewellery and wallets. But only after they are dead. For now – the girls. The young and pretty ones."

He stepped out through the door.

* * *

Taylor saw the tall Chinese man, clad all in black, wearing a metal mask. She thought she knew who he was; she had read about him on the Parahumans Online boards. His name was Lung and he'd once taken on Leviathan and driven him off. _That means that these guys are ABB, Azn Bad Boys. Bad news._

He spoke in some language which she supposed was Chinese, and then left again. Two of the men started moving between the people, bending down to look. Almost immediately, a girl was jerked to her feet.

Her blood ran cold. _They're kidnapping girls. This can in no way be good._ "Outside! Outside!" shouted the men, gesturing with their guns.

Taylor gritted her teeth. It was _hard_ to coordinate swarms. Practise was making it easier, but it didn't help that men were pointing guns at the crowd. She tried to look toward Emma, then suddenly realised that Greg had slid his phone from his pocket and was fiddling with it.

"What the hell are you doing?" she whispered. "They said not to call the police!"

"I'm not," he whispered in return. "I'm posting to the Parahumans Online boards! I'm telling them Lung's here!"

_Oh god, he's going to get us both killed, _she decided with dread. She had just decided to try to grab the phone from him when a foot smashed down on it. Plastic shattered and bones crunched; Greg let out an agonised scream. Taylor looked up at a Chinese man, who was pointing a gun at Greg's head.

"We say you do not call for help, little boy," said the man in accented English. "You call. Maybe I should kill you."

Greg moaned and hugged his hand to his chest. The man kicked him in the ribs, then bent down and seized Taylor by the wrist. He lifted her up a little, looked down at her, then sniffed and let her go again. "You're lucky, boy. Your girl stays behind."

_Never before in my life,_ thought Taylor, _have I considered myself lucky for not being pretty enough. _Because she could see it was only the pretty girls being chosen. She looked around, saw Emma.

* * *

Emma lifted her head slightly and looked around. A man was standing over where Taylor was lying; he lifted her up, then let her go again. Across the room, they made eye contact. _Ready when you are._

A hand roughly grabbed her arm; at the same time, Madison gave a frightened squeak. She had been looking in the wrong direction; two men had come up to where she was lying without her seeing them.

Emma saw Madison's frightened face as she was half-lifted, half-dragged away toward the door. Her own captor lifted her, looked approvingly at her face and body, then frowned.

"You look familiar," he began to say.

She recognised him also; he was the thug who had given the girl the knife in the alley, two and a half years ago. He was a little older, a little more scarred, but it was the same guy.

"Yeah," she said. "It's me. The ginger bitch."

And she let go with a punch that collected him cleanly on the jaw, rocking him back on his heels.

At the same time, she unleashed her growing terror and anger; her hair unravelled and sprang outward in all directions. It wrapped around the thug, and every one of his comrades that she could see. As the tendrils made contact, she sent a burst of power flowing outward, causing them to convulse and then drop to the ground, twitching feebly.

Distantly, she was surprised by the reach she now had. When she first got her powers, she couldn't reach more than about ten feet with her hair tendrils. Now, she was stretching them thirty feet with ease.

* * *

Taylor saw Emma go on the offensive, and blinked. _That was ... impressive._

But even as she climbed to her feet, she saw that there was one man left. He had been too close to Sabah, and had been holding her arm. Tendrils had wrapped around him but Emma had dared not electrocute him, because it might harm her.

* * *

Lily blinked, but she decided to be impressed later. All but one of the bad guys in the hall were down, and that one had a hostage. _Sabah_.

* * *

Struggling against the tendrils holding him he brought the gun to her head. A tendril was wrapped around his mouth, preventing him from shouting a warning to those outside, but his meaning was obvious. _Let me go or I shoot._

Emma froze. _If I zap him, his finger will spasm on the trigger, she thought._

* * *

Lily threw the butter knife.

It should not have reached so far. It should certainly not have travelled in such a straight trajectory. But she had imbued it with her power, and such minor things as gravity and air resistance meant nothing to it.

It came to rest partially inside his hand, partially inside his gun ... and partially inside his throat.

He made an odd choking noise, and let Sabah go, before falling to his knees.

Lily moved forward; Sabah pulled away from the ABB thug and ran to her. They met, held each other. Lily smiled down at Sabah; there was a moment of perfect understanding.

"After this shit ... we'll talk, okay?" said Lily softly.

Sabah nodded. "Yes," she replied. "We'll talk." Her eyes said a lot more.

Lily kissed her once, then disentangled herself and headed for the door, all business once more.

* * *

Taylor got up, ignoring Greg, and followed Lily. She sent her spiders swarming on ahead,

Emma's hair had contracted slightly, but it still waved about her head in its typical seaweed effect. Taylor noted that she had put two tendrils down to act as a makeshift mask around her eyes.

They made it to the doorway and looked outside. A large moving van stood nearby, the doors open; the girls were being forced at gunpoint to climb into the back.

But that was as much as they saw, because Lung himself was moving toward them, to see what the delay was.

"Come on," he shouted. "Move, or you will regret it!"

* * *

Madison climbed into the back of the truck. The movement was awkward and disarranged her dress enough that the two guards stationed within saw more than they really should have.

One of them turned to the other and said something in Chinese. The other said something that sounded argumentative. The first said something else; the second one laughed.

The first one grabbed her arm. She cowered back. "Oh god please no," she whimpered. For all that she flirted shamelessly, she was still a virgin. And for all they they had spoken in Chinese, she had a very good idea of what they intended.

She struggled, but they were too strong.

Forcing her down on the bed of the truck, the first guard pushed her skirt up to her waist.

Leaving the other guard to hold her down, he began unbuckling his trousers.

* * *

_I'll make __**you** __regret it,_ thought Taylor.

Despite the chill night air, there were a few insects out here, and the spiders from in the hall. Taylor was finding it easier to control them now; perhaps it was the combat conditions, perhaps that she knew she had to get it right the first time

The bugs swarmed across the ground, attacking Lung's men, causing them to flail about and take their eyes off the girls. More attacked Lung; he grunted and swatted at them, but did not seem overly hampered.

"What is this?" he bellowed. "Capes? I face little girls!"

There was an odd discontinuity, where Emma, Taylor and Lily all staggered, disoriented. Even Lung seemed to falter. Something had happened, they knew. But they didn't know what. At least, not then.

* * *

Madison sagged back against the wall of the truck. She remembered to push her skirt down again. She was breathing hard, her heart pumping rapidly.

Something had happened. She had a fading memory of ... something. But she didn't know what. And now the two guards were lying unconscious - or dead - on the other side of the truck. And she had no idea how they had gotten there.

The other girls in the truck were staring at her with a mixture of fear and respect.

"How did you _do_ that?" whispered one of them.

* * *

Some of the men raised guns in their direction; Lily threw more of her plastic butter-knives. Each one penetrated a gun, became one with its mechanism.

Emma's hair lashed out, tendrils seeking the foe. A red streamer latched on to an arm or a leg, and power crackled down it. The men convulsed, dropped. Lung staggered, fell to one knee.

And then he rose again.

"I am _Lung!"_ he bellowed, grasping the tendrils, wrenching them away from him. Metal plates burst from his skin, covered him like scales. Fire burst outward from him, incinerating those insects on or near him.

Emma gritted her teeth and sent more tendrils snaking toward him. They wrapped around him, binding his arms to his sides. She noted that his fire did not burn her hair, did not destroy it.

_That's actually a good thing._

She tried another taser-burst on him; he roared in pain, but the metal plates conducted it to the ground.

_I have to try something different._

* * *

Crouched in the truck, Madison looked around at the girls in there with her. _I can't let it affect me. I have to be brave. I have to show the others that I'm not scared. I have no idea what happened just now, but I'm glad it did._

"Come on," she urged. "Let's get out of here."

Staring first at her, then at the supine guards, the girls quickly nodded agreement.

They moved to the rear of the truck and pushed open the door, which had swung mostly shut.

* * *

Lily balanced her last butter knife in her hand. _If I go for a shot, it has to be a kill shot, or it won't even bother him._

She watched Emma with concern; the redhaired girl's face was taut with concentration. _If she can't stop him ... I will._

Lung hunched his shoulders and bellowed again, pulling the encircling tendrils apart, forcing Emma's grip to loosen. The metal scales on his body had grown, making him even taller and wider. A gout of flame roared from his mouth; Emma shrieked and threw a mass of hair into its way. It dissipated, but the hot air still rolled over them, making them cough and choke.

**"I am _LUNG!"_** he bellowed once more, and again fire burst out from him.

This time it was much fiercer; blasting in all directions, scorching the front of the community hall. Emma was driven back a step from the sheer force of it, and the three girls felt fire licking at their clothing before it receded.

From beyond Lung, they heard a scream.

* * *

Madison was just helping the last of the girls down from the truck – tight dresses and high heels do not make for ease of climbing – when the wave of flame came at them. She screamed, instinctively shielding the other girls with her body, throwing out her hand, palm out, in a futile shielding gesture.

The flames roared toward them ... and inexplicably parted, just short of her hand. Only the radiant heat reached them, drying the sweat from their faces.

But the fire never got closer than three feet.

They existed, unharmed, in a bubble of cool air.

* * *

Emma went cold all over. _Madison._

Her tendrils lashed out at Lung once more, but this time they did not try to hold him. Instead, they burrowed between his scales, down to find his bare flesh, all over his body. He inhaled, ready to blast them with another fireball ... but before he could do so, she struck.

Every erg of electricity that she could generate slashed down the hair tendrils, down between the scales ... and grounded out in his body.

Lung arched his back and screamed in agony. His armour lit up from within, sparks flying off him, arcing to anything metal in the vicinity. He convulsed, jerking spasmodically. His fire sputtered and went out.

And then he crashed to the ground. Emma withdrew her tendrils. Wisps of smoke rose slowly from his supine body.

* * *

Taylor ran past him, past the ABB thugs. Some of these, especially the ones that had been closest to Lung's temper tantrum, were definitively dead, or they would soon wish they were. But somehow, she could not feel much sympathy for them.

"Taylor?" she heard from in front of her.

"Madison!" she cried out with relief.

"Madison?" repeated Emma. "You're alive? Oh, thank god!"

Madison stumbled out of the darkness, with several other girls. Taylor hugged her tightly. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm good," Madison murmured. "The fire never touched us."

Emma reached them, wrapping her arms around the both of them in a tight hug. "Mads, you're alive!" she said, her voice breaking. "I thought you were ..."

"No, I'm good," said Madison again. "The fire just ... went around me. Us. We never got touched." She shivered. "i can still see it coming at me. I thought I was going to die."

"Well, it's okay now," said Emma comfortingly. "You're safe."

Madison closed her eyes. She could still feel the guard's rough hands on her body. _I don't know if I'll ever feel safe again._

* * *

After

* * *

Turbines sounded in the night sky, and a PRT transport grounded; the Wards emerged.

By this time, Emma had gotten the surviving ABB members into one group, where they were groaning their way back to consciousness. No-one was even sure how to check for life signs with Lung.

Aegis took charge, getting the ABB people secured and ensuring that there were no other dangers in the area. He approached Emma and Taylor, who were standing with Madison, Lily and Sabah.

"Well," he said. "This is impressive. I'm presuming you took down Lung?"

Emma nodded wanly. "I thought he'd killed Madison," she said. "I just got so mad."

Aegis nodded. "It seems you had a lucky escape." He frowned. "And what's this I hear about bugs attacking some of the men? Is this a new power you've gotten?"

Emma shook her head. "It's a long story," she said. "I'll tell you all about it later."

He nodded. "So, have you made your mind up about joining the Wards? We could really use someone like you."

Emma took a deep breath and leaned on Taylor and Madison. "That's not a decision I want to make right now," she said softly. "Too much has happened, and right now I just want to curl up on the sofa for some ice cream therapy."

Aegis nodded again. "I can understand that." He smiled. "Well, keep in touch."

* * *

Lily watched him walk away. "He'll debrief me later, of course," she said quietly. "I'll have to tell him what I saw you do."

Taylor nodded. "I understand." She smiled at Lily. "That was some awesome throwing skills."

Lily shrugged slightly. "It's my power, mainly. And I had to get it right first time, so I did." She smiled down at Sabah, who had not moved from her side.

Sabah returned the smile, then reached up to kiss her gently on the lips.

* * *

From next to Taylor, Madison said softly, "They look so complete together."

"Jealous?" asked Emma lightly.

"Hardly," Madison smiled wanly. "She looks so happy. I can't even begin to compete with that." She tried to giggle. "And she showed me how much fun it is to kiss girls. I can't be mad at her for that."

"Okay,' said Taylor. "I have just one question."

"What?" asked Madison.

"Just how _did_ you get out of that without being burned to a crisp?"

Madison told them. They looked at one another.

"Well holy crap," said Emma.

"With cheddar cheese on top," Taylor added.

"We're gonna have to talk about this later," said Emma.

"Definitely," agreed Taylor.

Madison wrapped her arms around her body. _I __**really** __don't want to talk about this,_ she thought. _But these are my friends. How can I say no to them?_

* * *

Sabah and Lily watched the PRT transports lift off with the prisoners. Lung, it appeared, had survived, but he would be a long time mending. Emma had basically fried his entire nervous system. Fire, he was immune to. Electricity, not so much. Only his regeneration had even kept him alive.

PRT troops were working at getting witness statements from the people on site. At the same time, parents and friends were arriving to pick up those who did not have their own transport.

"So," said Sabah softly. "You're really Flechette, of the Wards."

Lily nodded. "Yeah. Is that going to make things weird?"

Sabah shook her head. "Oh no, it isn't." She smiled up at Lily. "So you live on base?"

Lily nodded. "I'm from New York. I don't have a place here."

"Do you have to go back to base tonight?" asked Sabah.

Lily considered. "Not right this minute, no," she admitted. "Why?"

"Because I've got a dorm room to myself, back at the college, and I really, really don't want to be alone for the rest of the night," said Sabah softly.

Lily smiled down at her. "I think that can be arranged."

Sabah laid her head on Lily's shoulder. "I've only got the one bed," she warned playfully. "We're going to have to share."

Lily rested her cheek on Sabah's head, and smiled into the darkness. "Good."

* * *

Greg stumbled out of the community hall. "Taylor!" he called. "Taylor!"

Taylor looked around. "Greg? What the hell? Have you even had your hand seen to yet?"

He cradled his injured hand with his good one. "Not yet," he confessed. "I wanted to see you first, make sure you were all right."

"Well, I'm all right," said Taylor tartly. "Go get your hand seen to."

He looked at her, bewildered. "Aren't you happy that I'm safe?"

"After the boneheaded stunt you pulled with your phone, and nearly got us both killed?" asked Taylor. "You tell me."

"I ... I just wanted to be a hero," he said lamely. "I wanted to prove to you ..."

"What the hell?" snapped Taylor. "All that screwing around in there? Trying to climb on top of me, fooling with your phone? All that was to _impress_ me?"

"Well, yeah," he said. "Taylor, I think I'm in l –"

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence!" she snarled. "To make things absolutely clear, Greg, I don't like you, I don't want to be near you, and you getting hurt was your _own damn fault."_ She pointed at the PRT medics. "So go, get your hand treated, and don't even think about talking to me unless it's specifically about schoolwork."

He stared at her. "I think you really _are_ a lesbian," he mumbled, then turned and stumbled off.

Emma watched him go. "Is it me, or does he really not get the hint?" she asked.

Taylor sighed. "Trust me," she said. "It's not you."

* * *

Later

* * *

Danny was working on the paperwork when he got the phone call.

"Hebert," he said distractedly, balancing the receiver between ear and shoulder.

"_Danny, it's Alan. Have you been watching the news?"_

Danny stopped. "No. Why?" A cold chill went down his back. "Are the girls –"

"_They're fine,"_ Alan assured him. _"They're at my house. They've had a bit of a scare, but they're all okay."_He paused_. "Taylor says hi, and that she really wants a hug right now." _He paused. _"Drive carefully, please. Taylor wants to see you in one piece."_

Thirty seconds later, Danny was pulling away from the curb in his truck.

* * *

By the time he got there, all three girls had bathed and changed into pyjamas; Emma had donated spare sets of flannels for the other two. Taylor was too skinny for hers, and Madison too short, which occasioned much laughter as they snuggled up on the sofa with bowls of ice cream.

Taylor rose and put her bowl down as he entered the room. "Dad!" she said, and hugged him tightly.

He looked anxiously at her. "You're all right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Really, I'm all right," she assured him. "You should have seen Emma, though," she added. "She was _badass."_

Emma shuddered delicately. "Please don't use that word," she said. "Sophia used it all the time. I'm kinda sick of it."

Taylor grinned; Madison smiled wanly.

"Anyway," said Taylor, "I just wanted to see you and let you know I'm okay."

Danny smiled gratefully and hugged her again, then looked at the pyjamas. "I presume you're having a bit of a sleepover?"

Taylor nodded. "Madison checked with her dad, and he says it's okay. And right now, I really need to be with my friends. We all do."

Danny nodded. "I can understand that," he said. He smiled. "Call me in the morning when you need a lift, okay?"

She smiled and hugged him again. "Thanks, Dad. You're the best."

* * *

Three mattresses were laid out on the floor of Emma's bedroom, and made up with sheets and blankets. One of these was the mattress from Emma's own bed, which she dragged off herself to bring it down to the same level as the others.

They lay in bed after the lights were turned down, talking quietly, going over the events of the evening.

"So Madison," said Taylor at last, going up on one elbow and looking at the petite girl in the semi-darkness. "Air control powers, huh?"

"Yeah," said Madison pensively. She paused. "It ... I ... the guards in the truck ... they ..."

Abruptly, she rolled off the mattress and bolted for the bathroom.

* * *

She got most of the way there, but the overlong legs of her pyjama pants tripped her up. She fell, crawled, and then vomited all over the bathroom floor. Up it all came; ice cream, the party food she'd had, everything she had eaten over the previous day.

Taylor and Emma followed after her; Taylor helped her to the toilet and held her hair out of the way while she threw up again and again, until nothing else seemed to be coming up, and she was sobbing convulsively.

Emma had gotten a container of hot water with detergent in it, and began cleaning up the mess on the floor; she caught Taylor's eye, and silently indicated the shower with a tilt of her head. Taylor nodded; Madison had gotten a fair bit on herself and her borrowed pyjamas, and Taylor herself had caught a splash or two as well.

So she turned the shower on, and helped Madison out of her filthy pyjamas and into the shower, where she sat in one corner with her arms around her knees, still crying.

Taylor sighed, and took off her own pyjamas and stepped into the shower with her. She helped Madison to her feet, and washed the strings of vomit from her hair, and soaped it from her skin, and held her while she cried.

* * *

Madison threw up twice more in the shower, but only bile was coming up now. Taylor soothed her with soft words until she had calmed down, and then helped her from the shower, where Emma was waiting with huge fluffy towels and even fluffier bathrobes.

Back on the mattresses, freshly bathed, in new pyjamas - Emma confessed that she had too many sets, each in a different pastel colour - Madison was subdued, but able to talk about it.

"They wanted to ..." she began, then gestured at herself. "They didn't, but I thought they were going to, and I was terrified." She sniffled; Emma handed her a box of tissues, and she blew her nose. She looked at Taylor and Emma. "I can't believe I felt jealous of you for having powers. What you must have gone through to get them ... I feel so stupid now."

Taylor sat up and moved over to Madison's mattress. "I'm sorry too, Mads. I thought that whatever you'd gone through, you'd handled it." She hugged the petite girl. "I should have been thinking more."

Emma hugged her from the other side. "Me too. After all, it took both of us to help Taylor through her aftermath, and I cried on Talyor's shoulder for months after mine. It was stupid of me to think that yours would be any easier."

Madison began to cry again, but this time it wasn't from suppressed trauma, but from release of emotion. They held her while she let it out, her tears absorbed by the thick flannel pyjamas.

* * *

"Okay," said Emma. "We're gonna be right here all night if you need us, okay, Mads?" She grinned and pushed a lock of Madison's hair back from her face. "And guess who just graduated from sidekick status."

Madison responded with a watery smile. "Thanks, guys."

She lay down on her mattress, which just so happened to be between the other two, and looked at Taylor and Emma as they moved to their own beds.

"Thanks for everything, guys," she said softly. "I love you both."

"We love you too, Mads," said Emma. "Sweet dreams."

"Night," responded Madison.

"Night," agreed Taylor.

Emma reached out a tendril and turned off the lights.

* * *

End of Part Six


	7. Chapter 7

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Seven: Awakenings and Revelations

* * *

Flechette stirred as her comm went off. As she reached off the bed to the tangle of clothes on the floor, the girl beside her mumbled a query.

"Nothing," she murmured. "Just gotta answer this."

Holding the comm to her ear, she said sleepily, "Flechette."

_"This is Armsmaster,"_ she heard. _"You have not yet reported in for debriefing."_

Her eyes opened wider, and she looked at the time. _After four. Shit._

"Sorry, sir," she said, striving to sound awake and alert. She let go of Sabah and sat up in bed, pushing the covers off of her. Sabah made a noise of protest; Lily ignored it. "I got sidetracked. We spent time talking." _And doing other things._ "I'll be there in half an hour."

_"Not good enough. A transport is on the way to retrieve you. ETA two minutes."_

Adrenaline shot through her system. _Two minutes? _**_Fuck._**

But Armsmaster wasn't finished. _"And Flechette?"_

"Yes, sir?"

_"Be. Dressed."_

"Yes, sir!"

She bounced off the bed, thumbing her comm off. Sabah sat up, hair adorably tousled, and stared blearily at her. "What's happening?" she asked.

"They're coming to fetch me in two minutes," explained Flechette rapidly. "I have to be dressed and outside in that time, or they'll probably assume I'm under duress and kick the door in."

Sabah seemed to focus. "Okay," she said. "Let me help."

Flechette went to argue, but stopped herself. She stood still, and watched as her clothes separated from Sabah's, then presented themselves to her in order. She climbed into her panties, then shrugged into her bra and felt it do itself up. Her pants came next; she pulled them on, and watched as they fastened themselves. Her top likewise did itself up even as she pulled on her socks and then stepped into her boots.

* * *

She was fully dressed and equipped in less than a minute.

Leaning over, she kissed Parian lingeringly on the lips. "Thanks," she breathed. "I'll be in touch.". Then she turned and dashed from the dorm room.

* * *

The transport came to a hover, preparatory to landing. Over the comm crackled a voice.

_"Transport overhead, this is Flechette. Hold position and prepare to take on passenger."_

The pilot replied automatically. "Roger, Flechette. Holding position.". His scans showed one person on the street below; female, teenage. The costume checked out as Flechette's. She raised her arbalest, loosed a missile. It _clacked_ on to the side-rail of the transport above the hatch, caught. _Grappling hook._ He opened the hatch.

In the next few seconds, the girl was drawn up from the ground to the transport by a rapidly-shrinking chain; she grasped the rail, unhitched the hook, and swung herself aboard. "I'm here," she said briskly. "Let's go."

The pilot nodded, hit the button to close the hatch, and kicked the transport into a climbing turn.

* * *

Emma blinked herself awake. She was lying on a mattress on the floor, and snuggled up to her was ... Madison. She focused, and looked into Taylor's eyes, not two feet distant. Taylor grinned and shrugged, which is not easy to do when lying on one's side.

"She got lonely," she explained, nodding toward her arm, holding Madison close to her.

Emma nodded. "After what nearly happened to her, last night ... I'm not surprised," she replied in a low tone. She put her hand on Taylor's arm. "Thanks for being there. Thanks for being _here."_

Taylor grinned and ducked her head. "What else could I do? You're my best friend. Dad calls you the sister I never had. And Mads stood up for us, helped us out. I'm not gonna leave her in the lurch."

"Oh, for god's sake," mumbled a sleepy voice between them, "just make out already or shut up."

Taylor looked at Emma and raised an eyebrow; Emma grinned and nodded. They moved as one; Taylor pulled the pillow from under Madison's head and pressed it firmly over her face, while Emma began to tickle Madison mercilessly.

Madison's shriek was muffled by the pillow, but she came out fighting. She soon had the pillow off her face, and was attacking Taylor, while being in turn tickled by Emma. Then she and Taylor double-teamed Emma. After that, it devolved into a general shambles, tickling interspersed with whacking one another with pillows. Shrieks and giggles abounded.

* * *

This was brought to a halt by a knock on the door. From the other side, Alan Barnes called out, "I hope no-one's pillow-fighting in there. Those pillows are very expensive."

Emma dropped her pillow; the others did likewise.

"No, Dad," she called out. "We're not pillow-fighting.". She burst into giggles, looking at the other two, all three kneeling on the mattresses with their pyjamas in various stages of disarray, hair wild and unbrushed, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

"Good," he called. "Are you decent?"

"Um ... wait just a minute?"

Emma did up a couple of buttons that had unaccountably come undone, and shrugged the top back into place. Taylor was pulling her pants up properly - she was so skinny that the elastic sometimes failed to do its job - and Madison had to rescue both top and pants from a state of positive indecency.

"Okay," she called. "We're good, now."

_"That_ I would have to see to believe," he retorted, and opened the door. "Morning, girls," he greeted them.

"Morning, Dad," Emma replied with a giggle. The other two answered with variations on 'Morning, Mr Barnes'.

* * *

Alan Barnes seated himself on a chair by Emma's dressing-table and looked at them fondly. Fifteen years old, cute as hell, and already showing the promise of what they would look like as adults. _They'll break some hearts before they're done,_ he told himself. Full of mischief, but basically good kids at heart.

Which was good, because the powers exhibited by each of them was enough to put them far out of the range of any merely human combatant. It was his self-appointed responsibility, and that of Danny Hebert – and it would be of Madison's father, once he found out about his daughter's powers – to help guide them to use their powers in a moral and upright manner.

It was a responsibility both terrifying and exhilarating.

* * *

"So how are you feeling this morning, Madison?" he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. "Better," she said. "A lot better. Every time I had a nightmare, Emma or Taylor was there to hold me. And I only threw up once."

"You threw up?" he asked sharply, looking at the carpet and the mattresses. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded earnestly. "It was nerves, I guess. I got to the bathroom in time, and only made a little bit of a mess."

"Which Emma cleaned up, while I got Mads cleaned up," Taylor chimed in. She grinned at him. "We had it under control, Mr Barnes."

"So I see," he agreed approvingly. _Sharp kid, Taylor. Doesn't have the looks of the other two, unfortunately, but more than makes up for it in brains._ "Well, I've been speaking to your parents. Taylor, your dad will be here in an hour. Madison, yours also. We've got some talking to do. Also, you've got to decide how you're going to let him know about your powers."

Madison frowned. "I … how do I do something like that? Do I have to?"

Taylor, Emma and Alan all nodded. "Yeah," said Taylor. "It's really the best idea. Unless you go all out to hide it from him, he will find out sooner or later, and if he has to find out on his own, then he'll be kind of hurt when he does. Trust issues, Mads. You want to avoid them." She leaned across and hugged the shorter girl.

Madison nodded and sat down on the mattress, leaning into the hug. "I guess," she said. "I just didn't want this getting more complicated."

Emma grinned and joined in the hug. "Trust me, it gets _less_ complicated once he knows. Consider if we have to go and do something in costume in a hurry. If no-one in the house knows, you gotta either sneak out or lie. If he knows, he can cover for you."

Madison's head drooped. "What if he's not good with me being a cape?" she asked in a small voice.

"If that happens," said Alan Barnes, "Danny Hebert and I will have a conversation with him about not being a dick. But I don't think that'll happen. I don't know him all that well, but he can't be that much of an idiot; he's got you for a daughter, after all."

"It's all good," said Taylor, holding her close. "We're your friends, and we're here for you."

"Both of us," added Emma. "And we don't let our friends down." She followed suit.

Madison sniffled, then the tears started to flow.

"Are you okay?" asked Taylor.

Madison nodded. "Just so happy," she explained. "Feel stupid, crying."

Emma ruffled her hair. "You go cry all you like. I'll tell you when it's stupid, and it's not stupid yet."

So they held her as she cried, getting the emotional release that she needed. Alan caught Emma's eye, and indicated the door. She nodded; he rose and left.

* * *

"Seriously?" Madison's father looked at her. "You've got _powers?"_

She nodded. "Seriously, Dad. I ... I got them last night. It was ... kind of scary."

Emma stepped up behind her and hugged her gently. She knew exactly how 'kind of scary' it had been.

He blinked. "So ... what sort of powers do you have?"

She grinned and held out her hand toward him, palm out. "Try to touch my hand."

He frowned suspiciously, but reached forward with his finger to touch her hand. But something intervened; his hand slid away to the left, along the surface of a smooth ovoid. His frown deepened. He tried again, pushing harder. This time it slid away to the right. He set his feet and pushed both hands at the barrier simultaneously; this did no good, and the barrier seemed to be frictionless. He could not get his hand within three inches of hers.

"Okay," he said. "I give up. How are you doing that?"

"Air," she said. "I can move it and control it." She held her arms out, and wind started whipping around herself and Emma. The two of them lifted a foot or so off the ground, the wind whistling and tearing at anything not nailed down, until she let them down again to the ground, the wind dying away almost instantly.

He stared at this display. "I'm impressed, I'm impressed," he said. "Is there anything else you can do?"

"Ah, yeah," she said. "But it's kind of an attack. So, not going to demonstrate, here."

He nodded. "Okay, that's fair." He looked around at the others. "So, what are you going to do with your powers, and why am I the last to find out about them?"

Emma stepped forward. "She's going to join me and Taylor in our superhero team."

He stared at her. "You and Taylor have powers _too?"_

She nodded. "I've had mine for years, and Taylor got hers in January."

He sat down. "I need to think about this for a bit."

A tap on his shoulder made him look around; Alan Barnes was offering a glass of bourbon. He nodded thankfully and sipped at it. It seemed to steady him.

"So wait," he said. "Your girls had powers for months or years."

Danny nodded. "Yeah."

"And you both knew about it."

"Sure," said Alan. "I was there when Emma triggered, but Taylor decided it would be better to tell Danny. And as she knew about Taylor, and Taylor knew about her, we both decided it would be better for Danny to know about their powers." He indicated Danny. "We're sort of making plans to be a support system for them when they go out using their powers."

"Which is where I come in," agreed Madison's father. "And now that Madison has powers, I'm in the loop."

"You're in the loop _if you want to be,"_ amended Danny. "If you don't want anything to do with it, then you can sit out."

"Hell no," said Madison's father. "My daughter's going to be a superhero? I wouldn't be able to sleep at night." He looked at Madison. "You're set on this, right?"

Madison nodded. "I was gonna be going out with Mr Hebert and Mr Barnes before I got powers. I wanted in on this, even then. And now ..." She held out her hand; an almost-visible ripple of air expanded out in all directions, lifting dust right across the room.

"Okay," said her father. "If you're going to do this, do you have at least a cape name and a costume?"

"Not a costume, as yet," admitted Madison. "But the others are still working on theirs too. But I got a name."

They all looked at her.

She grinned proudly. "Aerodyne."

* * *

Three Months Later

* * *

"_Attention shoppers."_

It was a lazy Wednesday afternoon at the Weymouth shopping mall. Teenagers loitered in the food court, bored housewives shopped for groceries, and more than one store clerk eyed the clock, wishing that the hands would tick around just that little bit faster.

"_We would like to direct your attention to the display going on in the centre stage."_

* * *

One of the guards watching the TV consoles in the security station frowned. Something had flickered across one of the screens. And now they were going dark, one after another.

"Hey, big man."

The voice was so unexpected that he did not feel alarm as he turned, frowning. The taser darts struck him in the shoulder, and the current sent him tumbling to the floor.

The teenage girl grinned as she used his own cuffs to secure him. Then she kicked him a couple of times in the ribs. Her shoes were soft-toed, and he had enough weight on him that she couldn't do him any real damage, but it felt good.

"That's right, mall pig," she muttered. "Now it's _my_ turn."

* * *

_"Or to put it another way, if you don't go to the centre stage area, we will hunt you down. And you don't want us to hunt you down. That's a guarantee."_

Shoppers looked around as the shutters on the outside exits to the mall began to rattle down. The initial response was _huh? I didn't think it was that late._

And nor was it; the time was barely half past three, still a full hour and a half before closing time. But yet, the shutters were indeed closing.

* * *

In the security station, the teenage girl attached a modded-up tablet to the computers with a cable, and started entering commands, her fingers virtually blurring over the touch screen. One by one, the disk cabinets that contained the amassed thousands of hours of security viewing started whirring, erasing the last hour of footage from all the cameras. And nor would they record anything else, until someone got into the system and untangled the spaghetti that she had just made of their programming.

She grinned widely. They would have to reformat and start fresh, because not only would she leave the programming in ruins, but there would be viruses and other booby-traps waiting for anyone trying the fix the system.

"When I screw with something," she muttered, "it _stays_ screwed with."

* * *

_"In case you're wondering, shoppers, yes, the Weymouth Mall has been taken over by villains. And also in case you're wondering, the seventy-three people who just dialled 9-1-1 are going to be horribly disappointed when their calls do not go through. Seriously, people, we **planned** for this."_

* * *

The statuesque woman was leaning back on the manager's chair with her feet on his desk, getting dirt on his paperwork. Well she didn't care about that. It wasn't her paperwork.

Beside the paperwork was a glossy black dome, with the number '73' showing in red LEDs. It dropped to '72' and then '71', and then the numbers cascaded down as people hung up their useless phones.

_Synth,_ she thought, _you're a fucking marvel. It's well worth your attitude for the toys you bring to the team._

She grinned as she lifted the mic and cleared her throat. "When you get there, I would suggest that you have your valuables and wallets ready to be collected by my loyal minions. Please do not hold anything out from us; the cleaners here work very hard, and it would be a pity to make them clean your blood from this nice clean floor." She paused. "Also, shop clerks? Bring the contents of your cash drawers. All of it. We _will _know if you try to screw us over."

She glanced over at the manager – fat, fortyish and utterly terrified – as he lay slumped against the wall of his own office, duct tape securing his hands behind him and a piece over his mouth ensuring that he could do no more than whimper.

"So, fat boy," she said, putting the mic down. "How's your day going? Because mine's going pretty fucking well so far."

He didn't even bother trying to answer her; the loudest noises he could make were ineffectual mumbles and snorts, and she had nearly fallen off the chair twice with laughter, until he had given up trying to protest.

Her grin widened. Fat boy had a moustache. He'd lose that whenever someone ripped the tape off. She wished she could be here to see that. But of course, she'd be long gone.

She picked up the mic again.

* * *

"_Oh, and by the way? The police are not coming. Nor are the PRT, the Protectorate, the Wards, or the Boy fucking Scouts for all I care. Not a one of them. No-one's coming to save you, boys and girls and chicklets. You're locked in here with__us. And we're gonna take you for every thin dime we can."_

* * *

It really was a great plan. Mayhem was proud of it. None of your usual big-ticket high-profile targets. A shopping mall, that was the thing. Hundreds of thousands of dollars flowed through places like that every week. Hell, if each of the two hundred stores in the mall had two hundred dollars on site, that was forty thou right there, not counting the money they'd pull in using Synth's little bag of tricks.

She tapped the radio earpiece she wore. "Synth, status on the sheeple?"

* * *

Synth grinned, her fingers rippling over the tablet. The security monitors showed up just fine now, run by her system's software. "Just fine, momma bear," she answered. Mayhem didn't like the nickname, but who gave a flying dog-turd about that? "Most everyone is coming along nicely, but I think I saw three girls duck into the girls' bathroom next to the bakery. I figure they think to hide out there until we're gone."

* * *

"Is that so ..." mused Mayhem. "Jag, go to the girls' bathroom on the mezzanine level, next to the bakery. Any girls in there, bring 'em to me. I'll be in centre stage. They try to avoid paying their due, they end up as an example "

She smiled to herself_. I'll let Creeper deal with them. It won't be fatal, but it'll be a salutary lesson to the rest of them._ She shivered, not from fear and not from cold, but from a certain prurient anticipation; she could never do it herself, but she found that she enjoyed watching Creeper do it to others. _I suppose it comes from watching all of that ultra-hardcore Earth Aleph hentai anime._

She licked her lips. _I wonder if Synth has ever watched anime like that?_

_I wonder if she'd like to watch it with me?_

She swung her legs off the desk and stood up, stretching. "Time to go to work, honeybunch," she said to the manager. "I'm sure someone will be along in good time to untie you."

Humming a jaunty tune, she left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

* * *

Jag grinned as he headed for the appropriate bathroom. He liked hurting people. Men, women, old folk, kids, it didn't matter. His power didn't work so good on living flesh as it did on inanimate shit, but what the fuck, it worked.

He didn't bother pushing the door open; he just put his hand on it, exerted his power … and it flew apart, large pieces clattering in the short corridor beyond.

He stepped past the ruins of the door, approaching the doorway that led into the ladies' bathrooms themselves.

And then a girl stepped out and looked at him. "Excuse me," she said. "Hello? Ladies? Gents is down the hall."

She was a looker; very nice figure, good rack on her for all that she was maybe seventeen. Red hair that flowed around her face. A long coat or something, over something skintight. And ...

_Oh shit. That's a mask._

He clawed for the radio. "We got –"

Emma's hair lashed out, stretching to cover the twenty feet that separated them, coiling around his legs and arms. The radio was plucked from his hand and brought back to her.

"Hi," she said. "Call me Sparx."

And the hair fluouresced, and a taser-jolt hammered his consciousness into oblivion.

* * *

In Sparx's hand, the radio emitted a tinny voice. _"Jag, this is Mayhem. Repeat your last."_

Emma was tempted to reply with some witty quip, but then she thought, _Why warn them?_

But the radio was useful. She hooked it on to her belt, then looked back into the bathroom. "Seriously? You guys aren't costumed up yet?"

"Done, now," said Taylor, fitting her helmet into place. Madison was smoothing the weave of the flowing gossamer silk fabric about her.

"Swarm?" Emma asked Taylor.

"Collecting," Taylor replied. "I got some in the corridors, but not enough for a good read."

"Let's do this," said Madison.

* * *

_"Momma bear, I got three capes, repeat three unknown capes, exiting that bathroom. Jag ain't comin'. Looks like he's down."_

Mayhem came to a dead stop. "Fuck. Descriptions?"

"_Okay, okay. Cape one has a red and black skintight, no particular theme, under a long coat. Her hair's all over the place. Maybe ten feet long, maybe tentacles. Redhead. Matches a news description of the one who took down Lung, three months ago."_

"Okay, cape one is priority target. Others?"

_"Cape two is wearing a red and black outfit ... maybe themed as a ladybird? Red with big black spots, anyway. Skinny, but the costume's got a little bit of bulk. Maybe armour, maybe just padding. Can't get a read on powerset. Might be a tinker, might be something else. Ladybirds are kind of generic."_

Mayhem nodded. "Okay, and cape three?"

_"Also NFI, momma bear. All sorts of flowing stuff, like she's wearing about fifty yards of white cotton candy. No idea how that shit does not get in her way. No read on powerset. Could be any-fucking-thing."_

Mayhem sighed. "Roger, Synth. Repeat, to all concerned, cape one is priority target. Oh, and cape one, if you can hear me, priority target means we give you to Creeper first."

* * *

Madison stared at Emma. "They know we have a radio?"

"Not hard to figure it out," said Emma. "If they've got someone in the control booth who can watch the monitors, then they can look at us. And they know their guy went in and we came out. So."

She looked at Taylor. "Got enough bugs to cover the cameras?"

Taylor nodded. "Can do."

"Know what I'm wondering?" said Madison.

"What's that?" asked Emma.

"Who or what Creeper is," said Madison.

"Oh, yeah," said Emma. "That _is_ a bit of a worry."

* * *

Synth swore. There was a moth on the camera she was using to observe the three mystery capes. She looked at the other screens. In fact, there were bugs crawling on the camera covers of nearly every pickup in the complex. Her ability to see anything of any fucking use whatsoever was being rapidly degraded.

She picked up the radio. "Momma bear, I got a read on the ladybird cape. I think she's an insect controller. We got bugs on all the camera pickups around the building. Right now, I can't see shit."

"_Roger that,"_ replied Mayhem. _"All points, cape two is also priority. We need our eyes, people."_

* * *

Taylor's eyes opened wide. "Shit," she said. "I think I just tipped my hand."

Emma frowned. "I think it was a 'damned if you use it, damned if you don't' state of affairs. How's the rest of your swarm going?"

Taylor nodded. "Building up nicely. They sealed the place to people, but not to bugs." She turned to Madison. "I've got them following up in the roof space. I might need you to make a hole in the ceiling if something goes bad."

Madison nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "I can do that."

Emma stopped, and put a hand to her arm. "Aerodyne, are you good?"

Madison looked at her. "No. I'm fucking terrified. But I wouldn't be anywhere but with you guys, even now."

Emma pulled her into a hug. "Thanks for being here, Mads. We couldn't do it without you."

Madison relaxed into the hug. "Thanks, Ems. That means a lot to me."

"Uh, guys," said Taylor, "not to break up this moment or anything, but there's something coming."

"Define," said Emma, stepping away from Madison and letting her tendrils flow out a little farther.

"Small, fast, buzzing. Bigger than an insect, flying."

"What," said Madison, "like a remote controlled –"

* * *

Synth grinned as her remote drones swept around the corner. She was controlling them from the one keyboard, drawing the feed to three of the useless screens, using a complex algorithm that she had devised; she told the group where to go, and they applied their tactics to what they met.

She put targeting pippers on capes one and two as they looked up at the drones.

"Hahahhaa!" she crowed, finger mashing the button she had designated as "fire". "Eat hot leaden death, intruders!"

* * *

" – helicopters!" shouted Taylor. She saw them, four of them, sweep around the corner in tight formation. They rotated and translated, and she distinctly saw small gunbarrels point toward her and Emma.

And then Madison gestured, and a wind roared up out of nowhere, smashed the choppers against the ceiling, then against the floor. Sparks popped; smoke trickled out.

"Nice one," said Taylor.

Madison grinned nervously. "Thanks."

They moved on.

* * *

"What. The. _Fuck?"_ snarled Synth. "Momma bear, they just fucking _trashed_ my choppers."

"_All of them?"_asked Mayhem.

"Fucking Huey, Dewey, Louie _and_ Donald," confirmed Synth. "Came at them, the one in the white did something with her arms, and then the choppers went up and then they went down. Fucking game over."

"_Tech buster? Machine control? Magnetism?"_ surmised Mayhem.

"Fucked if I know," snarled Synth. "But when you give that bitch to Creeper, I wanna fuckin' _watch."_

Fuming, she went back to her keyboard.

* * *

"I'm really not liking the sound of this Creeper," commented Emma.

"Me neither," said Taylor.

Madison said nothing. She shivered.

They moved on.

* * *

End of Part Seven


	8. Chapter 8

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Eight: Payoff

* * *

Two Months Ago

* * *

Emma lurched sideways as the shot hit her in the side of the head. Red splattered over Madison and Taylor.

She reached up and rubbed her temple ruefully. "That really stung!" she complained.

"Can't talk, Emma, you're dead," called her father from outside the maze. "Maybe you should work better together."

Emma felt her way over to the wall, her blacked-out goggles giving her no visual input at all, and sat down. She leaned against the wall, her hair pulling back to its normal length. "Go on, guys," she said resignedly, pulling her water bottle off her belt. "I'm dead. Avenge me."

Taylor nodded; she couldn't speak, as she was wearing a medical mask stuffed with rags. She could breathe, but no speech was possible.

Madison chose that moment to look around, and stared in shock. "Emma!" she said, her voice sounding slightly flat, and louder than normal. "What happened?"

Emma took a drink from her water bottle, and made one hand into a gun pointed at her temple. To the other two, the red paintball had made an amazing mess of the side of her head.

Madison nodded, the turned to Taylor. "What do we do now?" she asked. Taylor raised her eyebrows over the medical mask, then drew an arrow in the air with her bugs. The two girls hurried off in that direction.

Emma stretched her legs out in front of her and sighed_. Superhero training is such a pain,_ she decided. _But I guess it beats being shot in the head with real bullets._

* * *

Her father had leased the stretch of land on which the prefabricated maze had been constructed; Mr Clements had proven to be a very accurate sniper with a modded-up paintball gun. And Danny had come up with the 'three wise monkeys' scenario, to make them work harder at teamwork.

While wearing her blacked-out goggles, Emma could not see to use her tendrils effectively, although she could still use them to feel out her surroundings. Taylor could use her bugs to locate the goal, and other dangers, but could not speak to tell the others about it. And Madison could both see and speak, and use her air control powers, but heavy earmuffs stuffed with cotton wool, over industrial earplugs, rendered her as deaf as they could make her.

This forced all three girls to pay very close attention to what they could detect of their surroundings, as well as to each other. Madison was learning to watch the other two, Emma was learning to use her tendrils as an early-warning system, and Taylor was learning to use her bugs in more and more versatile ways.

While they grumbled and moaned about it – and threatened mock retribution on Madison's father if he kept shooting them in the butt, as he was wont to do – they did realise that their fathers were deadly serious about forcing them to become a solid, effective team. And the only way they could do this, and pose a real challenge to their abilities, was to hamper them in some way. Thus, the three wise monkeys.

* * *

The exercise ended soon enough. "You can come out now, Emma!" her father called. She pulled the goggles off her face, blinking at the influx of light, looked at the amazingly realistic splatter of red on them, and made her way back to the entrance to the maze.

"So, did we win?' she asked. The downcast looks on the faces of the other two were answer enough.

"Nearly," said Danny. "Madison came within ten feet of getting the prize out the door."

Madison rubbed her butt ruefully; the bright red splatter on the seat of her pants indicated why she had not made it the rest of the way. "You pick on me too much, Dad," she said, though her tone wasn't serious.

Mr Clements was cleaning and putting away his long-barrelled paintball gun. "If I don't, someone with a real gun will," he pointed out, paralleling Emma's own thoughts of just a bit earlier.

Emma hugged her. "Hey, you got shot in the butt. I got shot in the _head_, remember?' she said with a giggle.

Taylor rolled her eyes, the red mark around her mouth still showing where the medical mask had been in place, and gestured at her front. There was a red splatter right in the middle of her chest. "Direct hit," she said ruefully.

"You're getting better," said Alan Barnes encouragingly. "Working together better. Thinking faster, reacting smarter."

"Yeah," said Emma. "But we're still _losing."_

"Give it time, Emma," said Danny, and gave her a one-armed hug across the shoulders. "You'll get there. The PRT and the Wards have got their training centres. We've just got this." He indicated the prefab maze, the catwalks above from which Mr Clements could snipe down at them.

She nodded. "I know, Mr Hebert," she said. "I understand, and I appreciate it. But it's going to take forever to get this stuff out of my hair."

"Next time," said Madison's father dryly, "duck."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

One Month Ago

* * *

"Cover!" snapped Emma.

Emma could not see, but she knew that bugs would be swarming up over the three, in a living cloud that blocked all visual sight between the catwalk and the girls below. A paintball would punch through, but Madison's father had no direct line of sight to hit them.

She heard paintballs splattering to the left and right of them, and grinned. The 'bug-cover' idea had been Madison's, and Taylor had tried it out. And it worked.

They moved on, coming to an intersection. Emma had her hair tendrils extended in all directions, lightly brushing all obstacles, including her two teammates. Even though she couldn't see Taylor, she looked at her questioningly. Taylor hooked her thumb left, which Emma picked up and Madison saw clearly.

And just then, several bundles fell into the maze around them. As they fell through her network of hairs, she figured that they were made of cloth. And then the smoke hit her nostrils, and she felt the tiny impacts against her hair tendrils as Taylor's bugs faltered and began to fall to the ground.

_Oh crap,_ thought Emma. _They figured a counter for Taylor's bugs. _She reached for the bundles with her tendrils, intending to toss them over the nearest wall.

And then she felt a deluge of cold water, soaking her from head to toe.

_... and my hair,_ she amended, as all of her extended tendrils retracted back to her head.

"Guys!" she said unnecessarily. "My hair's down!"

Either Madison was watching, or Taylor pointed it out to her fast, because no sooner had she said this that she felt the air around her head swirling in a tight vortex, blasting the moisture out of it.

And then the wind picked up dramatically, probably to blow away the thick, choking smoke.

Emma felt her hair revive and reached out to grab the bundles; this time, the tendrils snared them and tossed them over the nearest wall. Madison's wind was dispelling the smoke, but paintballs suddenly started hitting around them.

But they were surprisingly inaccurate; Emma grinned. It was another trick that Madison liked to use; Taylor had thought of it. If she induced a strong vortex in a thin layer of air, any projectiles wound be spun off course.

* * *

Though paintballs rained all around them, and Madison's father did his best to disrupt their powers and capabilities from above, they kept moving through the maze. Fifteen minutes later, all three emerged with the 'prize' – a house brick with a ribbon wrapped around it – held between them.

Danny Hebert moved forward and hugged his daughter. "I'm proud of you, kiddo," he said. "I'm proud of you all. You really pulled through."

Taylor removed the medical mask and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Dad," she said with a grin.

Emma pulled her goggles off, blinking at the light. "So wait ... we _won?"_ she asked. "Without losing anyone?"

Her father nodded, and gave her a hug as well. "You did," he agreed. "And very handily too. You're really learning to work together as a team."

Madison pulled off her earphones, and took the plugs out. "We _won?"_ she asked, unconsciously echoing Emma.

Emma nodded. "We did," she confirmed.

Madison squealed and hugged her father, who had just descended from the catwalk. He hugged her back. "You did real good," he told her. "I wasn't holding back. You did all that by yourselves."

She smiled and held him close. "Thanks, Dad," she said. "That really makes me feel good."

Emma grinned and shared a high-five with Taylor. "We rock," she said.

"We really do," agreed Taylor.

"So what's next, Dad?" asked Emma.

"Well, we keep training you, of course," said Alan, "though we'll cut it down to once or twice a month. And you've about got your costumes up and running. So you'll practise carrying them in public and changing in a hurry. Also, using your powers without people noticing."

Emma ruffled Taylor's hair; the latter giggled and swung a mock punch at her. "Taylor's got that down, for sure," she grinned.

Danny nodded. "Though a little more practise never hurts. Taylor, I want you working on those bug-clones and on speaking and hearing through the bugs. Emma, you can use your tendrils quietly and sneakily if you need to; practise that. And Madison ..."

"Yes?" said Madison brightly, springing almost visibly to attention.

Danny shook his head and grinned slightly. "Try to work on not using your hands so much when you're directing your air movements. If an enemy sees you doing that, then they might target you."

"I've _been_ trying," said Madison, "and it works so much easier when I can move my hands."

Danny nodded. "I get it. But keep at it. Someday it might save your life."

She nodded seriously and hugged him. "Thanks, Mr Hebert."

He hugged her back. "Anytime, Madison."

She smiled. Superhero training was so much fun, the six of them, even when her dad was pelting her ass with paintball pellets.

"So, Taylor's mostly gotten your costumes in order, right?" he asked.

"That's right, Dad," said Taylor strolling up and slipping her arm through Madison's. "Got a little bit to finish on the Aerodyne costume, and almost done with mine. Emma's was dead easy."

"Dead easy, my perfect butt," Emma retorted, taking Madison's other arm. _"You_ try standing absolutely still while two hundred highly poisonous spiders run all over you, when you're just wearing underwear."

Taylor grinned across at her. "You _would_ ask for a skintight outfit. Having them weave it on your body was the best way I could think of to make it absolutely form-fitting."

"Any _more_ form-fitting," said Alan Barnes dryly, "and I'd be making you wear another costume over the top of it, just for modesty's sake."

"What?" protested Emma. "I wear a coat over the top."

"Which makes you look like a flasher," grinned Taylor. Emma stuck her tongue out at her, while Madison giggled.

"Well," said Madison's father, "that's that. We're done here for the day. Tonight's a school night, so you girls should get to bed early."

"Hey, we _won_ today," protested Emma. "Shouldn't we celebrate a bit?"

Danny glanced at Alan, and they both looked over at Mr Clements. After a moment, all three shrugged.

"Don't see why not," said Alan.

"They've been keeping up with their grades," pointed out Danny.

"You mean, _Taylor's_ been keeping up with hers, and helping Emma and Madison keep up with theirs," retorted Madison's father.

"Or that, too, yes," agreed Danny with a grin, giving his daughter a squeeze on the shoulder.

Taylor turned pink with pride. "It's not all _that_ hard –" she began.

"To _you,_ maybe," interrupted Emma. "I look at those problems, and I just fall in a deep hole, and then you're the one lowering the ladder."

Taylor stepped around Madison to hug her. "You're my best friend," she said. "How could I _not_ help you?"

Emma hugged her back. "Don't know," she said softly. "Don't want to know."

"Hey, hey," said Madison. "If Emma's your best friend, what does that make me?"

Taylor grinned and opened her arms to include her in the hug. "My _other_ best friend, silly," she said. She rested her head on Emma's shoulder. "I love both you guys."

"Yeah," said Emma, also including Madison in the hug.

"Me too," said Madison.

* * *

Danny grinned as the three girls embraced. "They did real good today, didn't they?" he asked quietly.

Alan nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Not much more that we can do."

Madison's father also nodded. "Just keep supporting them," he said quietly. "Any way we can."

* * *

The girls opted to go bowling,, which all three enjoyed immensely. Madison won at first, until the others told her firmly to stop cheating. She giggled; she'd wondered how long it would take them to notice.

They played individually, in father/daughter teams, and in fathers versus daughters. A good night was had by all, and they went to bed tired but happy.

* * *

When the costumes were finished, it was decided that the girls would carry them around in their bags, and practise changing in and out of them in public restrooms, timing themselves and trying to get the time down to something under ten minutes.

Emma, of course, had the easiest time of it. Her costume could be worn under anything that covered her arms and legs. Madison's costume had lots of flaring silk, but it folded really small, and only took a little time to get into. Taylor had the most problem; she had opted for a helmet and a more bulky costume, padded out to give her a more mature appearance, incorporating more silk than the others' for more protection.

But they carried their costumes to school, and to other public places.

Such as the Weymouth Mall.

As they had been doing on one quiet afternoon, when things started happening.

* * *

Now

* * *

"So what do we have?" asked Emma quietly.

"Big bunch of people in the centre stage area," reported Taylor, just as quietly. They slowed from a jog to a walk – all three fathers had insisted on an exercise program for their daughters that included a morning run – and she formed a map of the mall from a swarm of insects that hung in midair. A bunch of yellowjackets made up the group of hostages. "Someone with them, someone big," she added, causing a large beetle to join in with that group.

"Anyone else?" asked Madison.

"Yeah, two more," said Taylor. Other brightly coloured bugs appeared elsewhere on the ad hoc schematic. "Here and here. This one's a teenager, maybe as skinny as me. She was in the security area. And there's a woman, muscular, coming down from the manager's office. She's got a pistol." She paused. "The manager's tied up in his office, but he's breathing."

Emma had a good look at the map, then nodded. The manager wasn't a priority, not right now. "Got it," she said.

"I've got 'em both tagged, plus the big guy," said Taylor. "We're getting close."

Emma nodded tensely. "Ma- Aerodyne?" she asked.

Madison nodded. She exerted her will, and the same shield that had protected her from fire, once upon a time, formed around all three of them. It wasn't at anywhere near full strength, but she could bolster it very quickly indeed. If the bad guys started shooting as soon as they showed their faces, she didn't want to have to spend time thinking about putting it up.

* * *

Mayhem crouched on the balcony, waiting. In fact, she crouched on the balcony in _several_ places, making use of one of her little tricks.

Activating her powers allowed her to grow to twelve feet tall, increasing her volume and thus mass by a factor of eight. And each time she doubled in mass and volume, her strength and durability doubled _again_.

Once she was enlarged, she could separate into two or more versions of herself, strictly conserving the new level of volume and mass. Fortunately, clothes grew and shrank with her form, and multiplied with her bodies. Unfortunately, weapons did neither thing; nor did anything else of significance that she carried.

Currently, she was separated into four bodies, each body was seven and a half feet tall, and about four times as strong as her normal, unpowered, form. Which, as she worked out religiously, was plenty strong.

Synth, with her keyboard, which had a small screen slotted into it, had moved to near where the hostages were gathered. She and Creeper were the first two that the intruding capes would see. The _last_ thing that they'd see would be Mayhem, falling on them from the balcony above.

She allowed herself a little grin. They might be tricky, but they had to be untried, novices. She'd never heard of a cape with a ladybird – ladybug, whatever – theme. Insect control, hah. What could you do with _that?_

She never even noticed the fly on her shoulder.

* * *

Taylor and Madison had evolved some basic hand signals during their 'three wise monkeys' exercises, and these paid off; Taylor was able to tell both Emma and Madison about the impending ambush without either Synth or Creeper knowing about it.

So when the four oversized women leaped from the balcony, Aerodyne took the two on the left, and Sparx took the two on the right. A howling wind picked two of the Mayhems up and tossed them across the centre court area, while the other two were caught by tendrils of hair that lashed out, grabbing them by their arms and legs.

But Mayhem was _strong_. She pulled her one arm free from her bonds and wrenched the gun from her holster.

Sparx didn't hesitate; she sent a surge of electricity through the tendrils, pouring through Mayhem's body.

_And Mayhem didn't drop the gun._

On the other side of the food court, one of the duplicates convulsed and collapsed, but the one that Sparx held was not in the slightest bit inconvenienced. She struggled to bring the gun into line, while her twin took advantage of Sparx's distraction and began to wrench her way free.

Ladybug snapped, "Bugs!" and Aerodyne responded immediately by smacking one of the hanging ceiling panels from its mount with a gust of air.

And the swarm arrived in force.

The Mayhem with the gun was engulfed, insects crawling into her face, wasps repeatedly stinging the underside of her wrist, where the tendons ran. Her hand flexed without her conscious intent, and the gun clattered to the floor.

* * *

Ladybug also took note of Creeper. He seemed to be an obese man, dressed in a huge coat and a hat pulled low over his head. She formed a swarm-clone between him and the hostages.

"_Back off,"_ it buzzed.

* * *

Synth was rapidly typing on her keyboard; Ladybug landed bugs on the small screen, and burrowed more down under the keys so that they jammed and could not be forced down.

"Oh, fucking _come on!"_ yelled the skinny Tinker. She mashed the Enter key – along with half a dozen bugs – and alarms started sounding. Lights also started flickering alarmingly.

"I've shorted all the electrics!" she yelled. "This fucking place will _burn!"_

* * *

The one Mayhem that had been thrown across the centre court and was still up, jumped forward and yanked a woman from the group of hostages. "Fuck that!" she shouted. "Fucking give it up or I tear her limb from limb!"

Aerodyne hesitated. Ladybug hesitated. Sparx sent a massive jolt of electricity through the two Mayhems she still held.

And the other Mayhem dropped, releasing her hostage.

_She transfers damage,_ Emma thought. _Hoped it worked that way._

* * *

Ladybug sent her bugs roaming, looking for electrical shorts. Found them. The bugs found the incipient fires, smothered them, snuffing the sparks with their own bodies. Spiders began to weave webs to cover the shorts until someone could pull the breakers.

* * *

Creeper shed his coat and hat. He was gross, misshapen, malformed. His body sprouted tentacles, uncomfortably phallic in appearance. These waved, moved, dribbled unclean substances.

"I touch you," he giggled, "you can't struggle." He made perhaps the most obscene gesture she had ever seen. "I do you, you're mine. A Creeper, just like me." His voice was ugly, echoing his body. "Bugs can't hurt me. I eat bugs. And rats. And cats. And dogs. And little girls who think they're superheroes."

He started toward the three girls and their two captive Mayhems, ignoring the swarm clone.

It leaped at him, collapsed around him, stinging, seeking mouth and nose.

He had too many orifices, horrifying, pulsating, too large to block. He kept coming.

Sparx was busy with the two remaining Mayhems; she had to build up a good charge before she could zap them again.

Ladybug put a swarm around Synth, started binding her with spider silk. The Tinker swore like a champion, but was nevertheless bound solid.

Creeper bore down on Madison, his wide lipless mouth open and wet.

"You wanna have you some Creeper, girl?" he asked, horribly suggestively.

His entire being emanated creepy sex. This was the very distillation of the terrors she had undergone, ever since she had triggered. And he was coming for _her_.

He was almost within arm's reach. She saw more and more bugs pile on him, stinging, trying to wrap webs around him, failing. Failing.

It was up to her to stop him.

She hit him with a tornado-blast, but that only forced him back a step or two.

Grinning wetly, he came at her again.

She screamed.

And did the worst thing she could think of.

Pulled all the air from around his body ... _away_ from him.

_All_ of it.

He stopped, choked, soundlessly. He was in a vacuum, could not breathe, could not speak. His flesh swelled dramatically, developed spontaneous spots of blood as capillaries burst. He tried to step out of the area, but she had surrounded it with her patented shield, in reverse. He could not push through.

He was in a cage of air, but he could not leave it. He was suffocating, dying, inches away from life-giving oxygen.

His eyes bulged from his head, bloodshot. He screamed soundlessly, his huge, misshapen tongue protruding from his gaping, lipless mouth.

And then she let it all go.

From a range of three feet, the air all around Creeper smashed into him at the speed of sound, with a pressure of fifteen pounds per square inch. Given his gross size, it was the equivalent of dropping a five-ton weight on him. Knocked cold, he slumped to the ground.

At the same time, Sparx mustered enough power to give Mayhem and her duplicate one more jolt. This finally sufficed to knock them out.

* * *

The three girls looked around at each other, then at the supine villains. The only one conscious was Synth, and she looked mad enough to chew through the webbing around her.

Taylor turned to Madison. "You okay?" she asked, taking the shaking girl in her arms and holding her close.

Madison nodded, as her trembling slowly died away.

Emma joined in the hug; they held Madison between them, comforting her, letting her know she was protected.

"Well," she said, "you sure as hell did a number on him."

Madison nodded shakily. "It was the only thing I could think of," she said.

Taylor kissed her on the forehead. "It worked. You won." She gave Madison one last hug, then nodded to Emma. "Now, let's go get that guy you zapped, and call the cops."

* * *

Calling the police didn't work until Taylor went to the manager's office to free him, found the Tinker device on his desk, and turned it off. Then she freed the man, cutting his bonds with a box-cutter she found on his desk. He pulled the gag off himself, letting out a groan of agony as it took his moustache with it.

Despite that, he was profuse with his thanks, and gave the police and PRT a glowing report when they arrived. All three girls had to stand by and accept the praise heaped upon them by the thankful hostages, while they made their statements.

* * *

When the Protectorate transport arrived to take away the captive supervillains, Armsmaster stayed behind to speak with them.

Behind her mask, Taylor gulped. This was _Armsmaster!_ She had underwear with his emblem on it, somewhere.

He studied them for a moment. "You did well," he said briefly. "No hostages harmed, all villains captured. Property damage kept to a minimum."

Ladybug had, of course, alerted the manager to the ongoing short-circuits. Breakers had been pulled, and the danger averted.

"From the reports of the fight, you acted intelligently and responsibly," he went on. "I am authorised to offer you a place in the Wards program. It will allow you the chance to work with other teenage heroes like yourselves."

Taylor sucked in a sharp breath. To be a _Ward!_ She didn't glance at the others; she didn't need to. Her hand found Madison's, squeezed it. Madison's hand found Emma's.

They had discussed this, many times. And always, they had come to the same conclusion. But the very thought of the offer excited them.

However, each of them knew what the answer must be.

"We appreciate your offer," said Emma firmly. "But we're going to have to decline. Respectfully, of course."

Armsmaster's tone did not alter. "That's your choice. I presume you will be forming a team, then?"

It was Taylor's turn to nod. "We are," she replied.

There was a moment of silence, which Armsmaster eventually broke. "Might I know the _name_ of the team?" he asked patiently.

Madison smiled. "The Samaritans," she said proudly.

* * *

There would be more, of course. Giving statements to the police could take forever. But even with all of that, even later when talking over the action with their respective fathers, thrashing out what they'd done, what they hadn't done, what they could have done better, there was no moment finer than when Armsmaster paused. He nodded.

"A good name," he said. And then he turned and walked away.

And that was how it all started.

* * *

End of Part Eight


	9. Chapter 9

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Nine: A Spot of Robbery

* * *

The morning show _Brockton Bay AM_ was in full swing. They were just coming back from an ad break, during which time three shadowy figures had been escorted from the wings while the studio lights were down, and seated on stage. Off to the side, an upright figure resembling a crash test dummy was also wheeled on stage.

The lights came up again, revealing three costumed teenage girls sitting in the seats. The morning host, teeth glittering in the studio lights, strode on stage, microphone at the ready.

"And welcome back to the show. I'm Barry Norton, and we have some new and exciting guests with us today. Some may recognise them as the teenage heroes who interrupted the robbery in the Weymouth Mall on Wednesday last. Calling themselves Team Samaritan, these three girls took on a bunch of four villains, all hardened criminals from out of town, and handily defeated them."

The implication, not quite voiced, was that any Brockton Bay teen hero team could take on twice their number in out-of-town adult villains, and still be home on time and get their homework done. Hometown pride, indeed.

Emma wanted to frown. _We're'the Samaritans', not 'Team Samaritan',_ she told herself. But she'd spent enough time in front of cameras to know not to make any move or expression that you didn't want recorded for posterity.

Beside her, Madison was sitting quietly, hands in her lap; Taylor, on the other side of Madison, was looking around with interest, and surreptitiously trying to spot her father in the audience.

Norton, in his role as the host of the show, was going on. "We managed to get a camera crew on scene while it was all being wrapped up, and our reporter spoke to Armsmaster, the leader of the Protectorate forces here in Brockton Bay."

The huge screen at the back of the studio, which up until that point had been showing a view of sunrise over Brockton Bay, as seen from Captain's Hill, dissolved into a picture of the armoured hero himself.

* * *

"_Armsmaster,"_ said the reporter urgently. _"The capes who took down the villains, are they in the Wards program? What are their names?"_

"_They are not,"_ replied Armsmaster briefly. _"However, the offer has been made, and they may yet take it up. They call themselves Sparx, Ladybug and Aerodyne."_

"_What's your assessment of their heroic debut here?"_ asked the reporter. _"How would you say they went?"_

"_They did the job, stopped the villains. No innocents got hurt. Nobody died. I count that as a win. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to."_

* * *

The picture froze, and Barry took up the microphone once more. "And that was Armsmaster, ladies and gentlemen. We all know the man is notoriously careful with his praise, so what he said there is practically a glowing recommendation. Also, we have these testimonies from the people who were actually on site."

The big screen cleared once more, and the reporter spoke to several people one after the other, the scene flickering from one brief interview to the next. Their voices rang out through the speakers.

* * *

" _... so totally awesome ... "_

" _... I thought I was gonna die, then they showed up ..."_

" _... totally kicked their asses ... "_

" _... I'm not into girls, but they could take __**me **__home any day ..."_

" _... we owe them our lives ..."_

" _... that Creeper guy was the worst, and that girl just took him down like a boss ..."_

" _... seriously, they __**owned **__them ..."_

" _... do you guys need a sidekick? Because I'd totally do that ..."_

" _... that chick with the hair? She was the bomb ..."_

" _... those bugs were really creepy, but creepy in a __**good **__way, if you know what I mean ... "_

* * *

The last interview faded off the screen as Barry took up the microphone again. "Creepy in a good way, indeed." He walked over to where the three girls were sitting, and shook their hands, one at a time. "It's good to have you on the show, girls."

"Thank you," said Emma, shaking his hand firmly. "It's good to be here."

Madison shook his hand next; she didn't say anything, but she smiled and nodded.

"Wow," said Taylor when he shook her hand. "This is so cool. How do I know which camera to look at?"

He smiled and pointed. "You see that little red light? When it's on, the camera is recording. When it's off, it's not."

"Oh, okay," said Taylor with a wide smile. "Thanks."

Barry seated himself and then looked over his guests.

"I guess we'll start with you, Sparx," he began. "How did you settle on your name? And does it end in K-S or with an X?"

Emma smiled. "Well, originally, Barry, I was going to go with 'Spark', but then I decided on 'Sparx'." As she spoke, her hair extended outward, forming a loose cloud around her head. "And it ends in X, because as we all know, cape names don't have to worry about the English language."

This generated a laugh from the audience, and Barry indulged himself in a chuckle. "So, your hair, how does it work? What can you do with it?"

Emma stood up, her hair extending farther. "I'm not going to give you my full capabilities, Barry, because villains watch TV too," she paused for the laugh from the audience, "but here's a little demonstration."

* * *

" – _here's a little demonstration."_

A dark-clad figure, the blackness of his costume only relieved by the image of a white snake winding about his body, sat watching the screen. He carefully observed every move, every gesture made by the the girl in the skintight costume and the long coat.

_How very perceptive of you, Sparx,_ he thought. _We do, indeed._

* * *

Her hair shot out in all directions, extending to twenty-five feet before she brought it to a halt. Then she brought the tendrils down, weaving together to form great ropes, which wrapped around Barry and lifted him easily from his seat.

"Whoa," he said apprehensively. "Don't drop me, now." The audience laughed again.

"You're in no danger of that," she assured him. "I can lift far more than your weight." Gently, she lowered him to his seat, and the tendrils whipped out of the way. He looked around and patted the seat, as if to reassure himself that he was indeed sitting down again. More laughter from the audience.

"So, I hear you can also generate electricity from your hair?" he said. "That must be fairly hair-raising for your enemies." A groan from the audience.

"I can indeed, Barry," she confirmed. "Once again, I'm not going to tell you my exact capability there, but if I may demonstrate?" She gestured at the dummy standing to the side of the stage.

"Be my guest," he said, with a wave of his hand.

Sparx whipped her hair forward, lashing out at the dummy, wrapping it up thoroughly. The movement was so sudden, so dramatic, that the audience clapped and cheered. And then lights began to fluouresce through her hair, racing back and forward, before converging on the dummy. There was a loud pop and crackle, and the smell of ozone permeated the air. The dummy's eyes flashed on and off rapidly, and it spoke in a tinny voice. _"Error ... electrical overload ... error ... electrical overload ..."_

As the audience laughed and clapped, Sparx withdrew her hair and sat down again, primly crossing her legs.

Barry clapped along with them. "Well, that was certainly dramatic," he said. "Now, Aerodyne, I understand that you can control air?" He waved his hand in front of his face. "Is that very useful? I mean, air's pretty thin stuff."

Aerodyne stood up, flexing her fingers. "It is, yes," she said. "But you know the good thing about controlling air? You can find it nearly anywhere." She stepped away from the chair and raised her arms until they were straight out from her sides. Wind sprang up from nowhere, whipping around her, and causing her costume to flare outward in all directions.

And then she began to rise off the ground, legs straight, toes pointed downward, arms still outstretched. The wind whistled and caught at peoples' clothes, and stray papers blew about as she hung in the air, ten feet above the floor, for several seconds. She settled to the ground, took a step toward the dummy, and brought up her hand in a striking motion, palm out. A ripple of air blasted across the distance between her and the dummy, and it rocked wildly on its base.

"_Whoa, whoa,"_ it bleated in its tinny voice. _"I give up, I give up!"_

The audience clapped and cheered again; she bowed to them, then sat down.

Barry clapped along with the audience. "That was very impressive," he said. "And now, last but not least, we have Ladybug." He nodded to the girl dressed in the red-with-black-spots costume. "I understand you control insects."

Ladybug nodded. "Yeah. Well, to be more precise, I control bugs."

"So you're a lady who controls bugs. Ladybug. Got it." Barry nodded, then paused. "So what's the difference?"

Ladybug smiled. "Spiders are bugs too. Anything without a backbone, and a very simple brain, I can probably control."

"Ah," said Barry. "So basically, politicians."

The audience burst out laughing and clapped his joke.

Ladybug chuckled as well, then shook her head. "Sorry, Barry. It's got to have _some_ sort of brain before I can control it."

More clapping, more laughter.

Barry applauded her riposte, then tilted his head. "No, but seriously, Ladybug, the ability to control bugs doesn't seem too powerful to me. What can one bug do?"

"If I was going to stick with one bug, not much," said Ladybug. "But I don't." She turned to the audience. "If anyone here is scared of bugs of any sort, be aware that every bug in this building is under my direct control. No-one here is in any danger at all. You have my direct assurance on that."

She gestured, needlessly but dramatically. From the darkness all around flowed the swarm which she had been stashing there since she entered the building. The majority of flyers carried crawlers, while other crawlers scuttled across the floor and up the legs of the dummy. In seconds, it was covered from head to toe.

Immediately, it began to thrash and flail its arms uselessly. Its tinny speakers cried out, "_Ahh, bugs, get them off me, get them off me!"_

Ladybug gestured again, and the swarm melted off the dummy, leaving it pristine.

There was a long pause, then clapping and cheering rose once more.

* * *

Vista's comm buzzed with a message. She read it off. "Aww," she complained. "The Director wants to see me. I wanted to watch the rest of this."

"You'd better go," advised Aegis. "She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

* * *

"Thank you, Ladybug, for that demonstration," said Barry Norton cheerfully. "I know I certainly would not want to be in that poor dummy's place."

He waited for the applause to die down, then addressed them as a group. "So ... you call yourselves Team Samaritan, correct?"

"Actually," said Ladybug, "I thought we were going with 'the Samaritans'." She turned to Sparx. "Weren't we?"

Sparx shrugged. "Apparently we're now Team Samaritan." It wasn't a _bad_ name.

Barry nodded and chuckled, now made aware of his error. "Well, whatever you end up using, I guess you're modelling yourselves on the idea of the Good Samaritan, to help out people in need?"

"That's ... about right," agreed Sparx. "We don't really have a power theme, and so we wanted a team name that said 'we do good things'."

"I've heard of worse ideas," agreed Barry. "So who's your team leader, anyway?"

Aerodyne looked at Ladybug, and then they both looked at Sparx.

"That would have to be Sparx," said Ladybug.

Sparx shook her head. "You two both come up with awesome plans and ideas," she protested.

"But you're the one who knows how to deal with people," retorted Aerodyne.

"She's right," Ladybug agreed. "If it wasn't for you, this team wouldn't be happening."

Sparx shrugged. "Well, I guess I'm the leader, for whatever that's worth in this team," she said to Barry. "I like to think we're all in it together. I mean, we all depend on each other so much."

Barry nodded. "I have to say, it's refreshing to see people _not_ trying to grab the top spot in a team."

Sparx looked at the others. "We've trained together enough to know that no one person can do the job of the whole team."

"And if you start giving orders without knowing what's going on, and get it wrong," chimed in Ladybug, "everyone suffers."

"So yeah," Aerodyne concluded, "what we work at is communication, so we're all on the same page. That's how to get the job done."

* * *

Sitting several rows back, Danny Hebert traded discreet fist-bumps with Emma's and Madison's fathers. What the girls had just said was the distillation of what Danny and the other two had worked so hard at getting them to understand over the last three months.

_They get it,_ he told himself. _They really get it._

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Director Piggot?" asked Vista.

Emily Piggot nodded. "Come in and close the door," she said.

Vista entered, as directed. She stood in front of the desk, arms behind her back.

The Director looked her over. "Are you happy here, Ms Biron?" she asked.

"Um ... yes?" replied Vista, startled that the question had even been asked.

"That didn't sound very happy to me," observed Director Piggot. "The way I understand things, you're unhappy because people treat you as a kid, even though you've got more time as a Ward than most. Isn't that true?"

Vista blinked. "Uh –" _How did she know about_**_that_**_?_"It's not really important, Director. I'm doing good work here. My personal feelings don't really matter."

The Director shook her head. "There's more to it than that. As it happens, we have more boys than girls on the team, and you're at an age when you would like someone to talk to about such matters. And the only other girl on the team is Flechette, and she spends most of her off-duty time off base."

Vista's eyes were wide behind her visor. Director Piggot was very much more aware of what went on in the Wards than she'd previously given the woman credit for. _I'm going to have to warn Dennis to quit it with the Ms Piggy jokes._

"Director ...?" she asked. _She wants me to do something. This is more than a normal interview. Much more._

Piggot leaned forward. "You've been watching Brockton Bay AM, with the spot on this new Team Samaritan, correct?" she asked.

Vista nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"What is your opinion of them?"

Vista blinked. "Well, Armsmaster likes them –"

Director Piggot cleared her throat. "If I wanted Mr Wallis's opinion of them, I would ask the man myself." She fixed Vista with a firm gaze. "I would like _your_ opinion."

"Um ... they look pretty cool, actually," said Vista. "I'd like to know where they got their costumes from. That's not homemade stuff. Or if it is, it's really good."

"Indeed," murmured Director Piggot. "Well, if you want, you can find out for me."

This was moving too fast for Vista. "I don't –"

"Ms Biron," said Director Piggot patiently. "I would like you to take a leave of absence from the Wards, and offer your services to Team Samaritan as an official liaison from the Wards. They're all teenage girls, so you will have that in common, and your Wards training should be an asset to them."

"I ... " said Vista. "_Quit_ the Wards?"

"I _believe_ I said 'leave of absence," corrected the Director. "More precisely, detached duty. You will continue to be paid your Wards salary, and you will be joining Team Samaritan on a temporary basis only. They are a new team, and there are sure to be teething problems. You will have us to turn to, to ensure that these do not get in the way of the Samaritans being as effective as they can be." She paused. "Also," she added delicately, "if you _happen_ to see any wrongdoing, it would be your duty to report it."

"So I'm a spy now," said Vista flatly.

"I believe I said 'liaison'," Director Piggot replied blandly. "You won't be acting against them, unless you find that they are committing crimes. I won't be asking you to find out their secret identities, or even carry a wire. I just want you to join the team and help them to become as effective a team of heroes as they can be."

Vista looked at her steadily. "Why this team?" she asked. "What's so important about them that you have to put a liaison in their ranks?"

"Because the young lady known as Sparx bears a striking resemblance to the young lady who defeated Lung three months ago, and is almost certainly the same one who brought down Shadow Stalker. From the way she's been handling herself of late, she's been getting professional-level training from _somewhere_. I'd be very interested in finding out where. Also, as you noted, the costumes. They are not home-made, nor are they store-bought."

Vista paused. The Director had a very good point. "Why me?" she asked. "Why not Flechette? She's closer to their age."

Piggot nodded, conceding the point, but then answered it anyway. "She's already got an outside relationship going on. I don't want her becoming distracted."

"Oh," said Vista. "Well ... how long do I have to decide whether I'll do it or not?"

Director Piggot considered simply making it an order, but then she thought again. "Forty-eight hours," she said.

Vista grimaced. "I hate leaving the team in the lurch."

"In the long run," pointed out Piggot, "this will be for the good of the team. And you'll be in a position of greater responsibility, helping coordinate any joint actions."

Vista brightened. "I guess," she said. "But I still don't like leaving the others behind."

But she knew she'd do it anyway.

* * *

"Wow," said Taylor. "What's this?"

The message had come in on the anonymous email account set up for Team Samaritan, and Danny had called Taylor to have a look.

* * *

_Management of Weymouth Mall wishes to offer Team Samaritan a one-time reward of fifty thousand dollars ($50,000) for services rendered on Wednesday last._

_Contact management for further details._

* * *

"I contacted them via their public email address," said Danny, "and it's legitimate. They want to reward you for what you did."

"Wow," said Taylor again. "What do we do?"

"You accept it, of course," said Danny promptly. "Charging money is one thing. Accepting it is another."

And so, that afternoon, Team Samaritan jointly accepted a cheque worth fifty thousand dollars from the CEO of the group that owned and managed the Weymouth Mall.

As he said in a private aside; "I know it sounds like a lot to you kids, but the amount of property damage that could have taken place, not to mention the people who could have been hurt, might have put the cost into the millions, if you hadn't intervened so effectively. Superhero teams cost money, and if you're the age I think you are, you'll be looking at college soon. So take it."

So they had taken it, and immediately run into a stumbling block.

* * *

"How are we going to bank it?" asked Emma. 'The Weymouth people don't want to make a big noise about it, and if we walk into the bank in costume to open a team account and bank it, it will hit the news big time."

"And if we walk in out of costume and bank it, there go our secret identities," Taylor pointed out.

"Maybe one of our dads could bank it for us," suggested Madison. "Emma, your dad's a lawyer. He could say he's representing us."

"Until someone looks at him, and then at the fact that he's got a red-haired daughter. And then, secret identity – _fzzzp!"_ Emma's voice was unhappy. "How can we bank this?"

"Ah," said Taylor. "Emma, your dad knows other people who are in cape law, right?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah, a few," she said. "But what – oh!"

"Oh, what?" asked Madison.

"I think Taylor's got it," replied Emma. "Dad talks to one of his lawyer friends. They're bound by client confidentiality. He banks it, Dad pays him for his time. Maybe a couple of hundred, maybe a thousand. And from then on ... we're good."

"Damn," said Madison. "I think it'll work."

Taylor grinned, then _oofed_ as Emma and Madison double-hugged her. "You, my dear Ms Hebert, are a genius," said Emma fondly.

Taylor hugged them back. "All for one, right?"

"And one for all," they replied.

* * *

"Calle Associates. Quinn Calle speaking."

"_Good morning, Mr Calle. My name is Alan Barnes."_

"Ah, Mr Barnes. I have heard your name before. You attended a symposium on cape law last year, and asked some very cogent questions."

"_Ah. Thank you, Mr Calle. I'm actually calling on a matter to do with capes in general, not specifically cape law."_

Calle raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening, Mr Barnes."

"_I need to purchase your time for one hour, sometime in the next few days."_

"And what would I be doing in that time, Mr Barnes?"

"_Before I answer that question, I need to know if you accept my offer of employment. This involves lawyer-client privilege, you see."_

"You are aware of my rates, Mr Barnes?"

"_I am, Mr Calle."_

"Then you have just hired me. I happen to be free for the next hour. What is it that you need me to do?"

So Alan Barnes explained about the cheque for fifty thousand, and how it needed to be banked, and how he needed a neutral third party to do it for him.

It was something new; it was something different. So Quinn Calle agreed to do it. He could stroll down to the Brockton Bay Central Bank in his lunch hour, get it done, and be back in time for his next appointment.

The cheque arrived by special messenger half an hour later, along with detailed instructions on how the account was to be set up.

When his lunch hour was due to start, he put the envelope into his briefcase and left the office. It would only be a short walk to the bank.

* * *

Emma nudged Taylor in the ribs. "There he is," she hissed. "He just walked in."

Taylor tried to look over the heads of the crowd, and gave up; she focused on the bugs she had stashed throughout the bank – I will never go anywhere ever again without a swarm – and their senses.

The gestalt she picked up gave her a good picture of Quinn Calle, joining the end of the line.

"Is that him who just joined the line?" asked Madison in an undertone.

Taylor nodded. "Isn't this so _awesome?"_ she whispered. "Team Samaritan's getting its very own bank account. And I've had some ideas. Our costumes are pretty durable; maybe the PRT will pay us for making spider-silk gear for them too."

Madison and Emma turned to her with widened eyes. "Sell stuff to the PRT?" gasped Madison. _"Cool."_

Quinn Calle was entirely unaware of the three teenage girls huddled and whispering toward the back of the bank; even if he had taken notice of them, he would not have paid more than a second's worth of attention. Depositing a cheque for fifty thousand in the bank for a group of teenage superheroes may sound like menial work, but he was being paid hs standard rates for it, and so he would carry out the work he was being paid to do.

Calle reached the head of the line, and commenced negotiations with the teller regarding the cheque and the details of the account. Soon, a senior bank executive emerged and escorted him into a side-room, where the details were hammered out.

Taylor listened carefully with the bugs she had in the room, and it sounded like the account was being opened exactly in the manner that was specified. She was not surprised; Quinn Calle had a reputation for meticulous exactitude.

It did not take long before Calle and the executive rose and shook hands; Calle exited the room and began to make his way to the doors.

* * *

And then three gigantic monsters, shaped vaguely like dogs, but the size of horses, burst out of a door to the back of the bank. Barking and growling, sounding like malfunctioning rock crushers, they barrelled through the lobby. People screamed and fell away from them. Taylor could swear they were growing as she watched them.

She was already reaching into her bag for the helmet to her costume – there was no way she could get the whole thing on in time – when darkness rolled through the room, and all the lights went out.

Emma was used to being in darkness; she pulled her mask up over her face and let her hair tendrils spread out close to the ground, giving her a good picture of what was around her.

Taylor's swarm started spilling out of the cracks and crevices in which she had stashed them, forming a living cloak around her, and incidentally hiding her clothes. She took the time to cover the security cameras with bugs; if anything noteworthy happened, she would uncover them, but she did not want any more clues to her identity uncovered than absolutely possible. Other bugs spread out through the room, giving her a good map of the area.

Madison reached into her bag and pulled out the softer-than-soft spider-silk mask that Taylor's spiders had crafted for her. She pulled it over her face in a practised movement.

While the darkness had an almost palpable feel to it, she could still make air move through it, and feel the obstacles that the air hit as tiny impacts.

* * *

Following the dogs came a loud revving engine noise; Taylor's bugs worked out a rough humanoid shape, metallic, with wheels down near the feet. Some sort of wheeled power armour. But not airtight ... or bug-tight.

The darkness had a boundary; outside it, people entered the lobby from the rear door. One was a young man in dark clothes, leaking darkness. Another, a girl in a skintight black and purple costume. A third; male, with black curly hair, a ren-faire style costume. Carrying a golden sceptre. And the fourth was a stocky girl with auburn hair and a dog-face mask. The initial person to enter the lobby was over near the doors, revving his engine.

The descriptions were vaguely familiar. Mr Barnes had made them all study the parahuman criminal databases, so they'd know what they faced, if they came across a known villain.

The Undersiders were robbing the bank.

The bank that had just accepted _their_ cheque.

_Hell,_ no.

That was _not_ going to fly.

* * *

End of Part Nine


	10. Chapter 10

**One More Trigger**

* * *

Part Ten: Friendly Enemies

* * *

_We need earpiece radios,_ thought Taylor. _It would make this so much easier._

But they didn't have them, and that was that.

Fortunately, they had other methods of communication. Forcing limitations on them, via the 'three wise monkeys' and other training techniques, had made the girls adept at thinking outside the box, working out new ways to get around their problems.

Ladybug reached out, located a strand of Sparx's hair. She tugged on it twice, then twice more. _Group conference._

Tendrils snaked out to Aerodyne and Ladybug, split into the individual hairs, moved to form a tightly-spaced grid pattern in front of each of them. Ladybug sensed hers with her bugs; Aerodyne, with her fingertips and her air sense.

Bugs landed on each grid pattern, approximating locations of hostages, their own locations, and the villains walking through the lobby.

Almost simultaneously, Sparx and Aerodyne formed the hand-gesture for interrogative; _who?_ Or sometimes, _what?_

Bugs tapped out Morse code – simple, easy to learn. The girls had been drilled in it. U-S-I-D. They got it._The Undersiders._

Using hand gestures refined by months of practice, hampered only a little by the encompassing darkness, they worked out the plan.

_Step 1: Get the hostages clear._

_Step 2: Disable and subdue. Divide and conquer._

There weren't so many words involved, but by the time the Undersiders had assembled at the front of the bank, the plan was complete. They each knew what they had to do.

So long as there were no nasty surprises. Someone had always brought in a nasty surprise. It kept them from becoming complacent.

They were ready. The bugs were ready.

* * *

Grue reached the front of the lobby and turned to face the cloud of blackness that covered the people who had been in the bank when they entered. The people they had gathered during their entry phase were with this crowd; cowed, huddling with the rest.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he called out, loudly enough to be heard over the muffling effect of his darkness. "This is just a bank robbery! We are not here to hurt you! If you do nothing stupid, you won't get hurt! We're just here to take the money and go!"

His voice was booming, echoing. Mysterious and frightening, Lisa had told him. Intimidating. Just the sort of thing to frighten people into cooperating.

Chariot stood near the main doors, revving his engine. Reminding people he was there. Bitch stood near him, her dogs by her. She was making them larger, more able to carry weight. She didn't like Chariot, had not approved of Lisa's bringing him into the team. But he was able to provide his own transport, and at a pinch for one other member of the team. Plus, they sorely needed a Tinker.

Regent stood near Grue, flipping his sceptre up and catching it again. Showing off for an audience who could not see him.

Lisa was heading for the vault. He knew her capabilities; she could get that door open. And then, load the proceeds on to her dogs, and they'd be home free.

She paused, frowning, just as he was distracted by a buzzing inside his helmet. And another. Bugs were getting into his _helmet_, crawling into his eyes and nose and mouth and ears. He blinked frantically, shook his head. They refused to be dislodged.

"Something's wrong," said Tattletale, and looked at Grue as he shook his head again. Under her mask, her face paled. "Oh Christ," she said. "We've got a cape in the bank. Maybe more than one."

"Shit!" He wrenched his helmet off, covering his face with darkness, and furiously rubbed his eyes and nose free of bugs. And then he saw them.

* * *

As soon as she received the double-tap on her wrist from Ladybug's bug - _Grue's distracted - _Aerodyne stepped out from behind concealment, along with the other two. Stepping over and around the prone and sitting hostages, her air-sense painting her a basic picture of where they were, she put her hand out before her and concentrated.

This was the first conscious use of her powers that she had managed, and she had practised assiduously with it. A semi-circular barrier sprang up between the hostages and the Undersiders; if the villains had guns, or unrecorded ranged attacks, or if Bitch's dogs chose to attack, this wall would afford them some level of protection.

However, she would be hard put to do anything else with her powers right now; this was going to take all of her concentration.

At the same time, Sparx sent tendrils out to every person on their side of the barrier; bewildered people felt themselves being urged to their feet, guided back toward the open doorway leading into the rear offices. An unseen grasp gently lifted, steadied, directed them. It seemed to know what it was doing; they went with it.

And then the darkness on their side of the barrier began to fade; it seemed that Grue needed a direct connection to promulgate his miasma, and Aerodyne's wall had cut off that direct connection. Given back their sight, people moved faster, more surely.

* * *

A freckled brunette with frizzy hair was among them. She had initially been worried for her well-being, but she recognised the gesture for what it was. _Getting the civilians out of the way before the fight starts. I have to admire that._

* * *

Grue rubbed his eyes and mouth free of bugs, looked toward the hostages, at where they were moving toward the rear exit. And then he saw the three capes. Standing at the forefront of the crowd, wearing civilian clothes but masked up, one holding her hand out, palm forward, fingers spread. As if warding something off.

The second one he recognised at once, from dramatic photos taken at the Weymouth Mall. Long coat, body-hugging costume, red hair spreading in all directions like the tentacles of a nightmarish octopus. _That has to be Sparx._ And the third one, arms crossed, crawling with bugs, except her helmet, shaped and coloured to resemble a ladybug.

He and Tattletale spoke at the same time; "It's Team Samaritan!"

At that moment, the spiders fell on Tattletale. She went to flail, then stopped herself from moving with an effort. Her power told her exactly what sort of spiders they were - _black widows_ - and her chances of survival if they all bit her at once - _not good_.

Just as she froze, Chariot's engine cut out.

* * *

Behind her visor, Ladybug grinned. She'd been about to cover Grue's faceplate with bugs, but then her questing insects had located the vents around the edges of his visor. And bugs _inside_ a helmet are far more problematic than those same bugs _outside_ a helmet.

Her reading on the Undersiders had given her the understanding that Tattletale was a Thinker; perhaps a clairvoyant, perhaps a prescient. Maybe a mind-reader, though no-one wanted to say 'telepath', given the association with the Simurgh. She decided to try the black widows, give her a verbal warning if she didn't figure it out. But she figured it out, and froze. _Good._

And Chariot ... Chariot was easy. A swarm of bugs into the air intake of his revving engine - _why would anyone use an air-breathing engine anyway? -_choked it out, stalling it.

* * *

Grue let the darkness drop; it didn't seem to be hampering the members of Team Samaritan anyway. He was surprised and dismayed when the darkness ran out altogether at a delineated boundary between himself and the three heroes.

_No wonder they were acting like they could see - they __**can**._

"Undersiders," snapped Sparx, "I'd advise you to surrender."

Regent made a negligent gesture, and Aerodyne fell to her knees. Her hand dropped, and a moment later, so did she shield.

Chariot swore as he tried to restart his engine.

Bitch lifted her hand to her mouth, preparing to give her dogs a whistled command, but fell to her knees, coughing and choking, as a bug flew down her throat.

* * *

Still hacking and coughing, Bitch made a hand motion, and her dogs bounded forward, growling and slavering. Aerodyne, still on her knees, lifted her hands again and met them with screaming blasts of air. They were smashed backward, the miniature tornadoes driving them off their feet. Aerodyne's lips were compressed, her expression determined.

Regent went to use his power on Aerodyne again, but a tendril of red hair wrapped around his wrist. In the next instant, he found out what it was like to be jabbed with his own sceptre; the charge coursed through him and he dropped to the ground, twitching feebly.

Grue and Bitch found themselves surrounded by swirling swarms of bugs, making vision difficult and speech impossible. Aerodyne hit the dogs with blast after blast of air, penning them up in the corner, as she climbed to her feet.

"You okay?' asked Ladybug, giving her a hand.

"I'm fine," Aerodyne replied, sending another tornado blast downrange. "Caught me by surprise, is all."

"One more time!" shouted Sparx over the thunderous sounds of the barking dogs, and the howl of Aerodyne's tornado blasts. "Surrender, now, before anyone gets hurt!"

"I'll do you a deal!" shouted Tattletale back. "They walk, I give myself up!"

Sparx moved toward Tattletale and snaked tendrils around her; Ladybug moved the spiders off her body as the tendrils took hold. Leaning close to Tattletale, Sparx said, "I don't think you're in a very good bargaining position, but I'll give you props for trying."

At that moment, Chariot's engine burst into life again, spewing black smoke and charred insect bodies.

Tattletale looked Sparx in the eye. "I _want_ to give myself up," she said quietly. "As it is, I know one thing that will screw your powers, and severely hamper the other two." She glanced meaningfully at the ceiling sprinklers. "That'll give us a really good chance for a fighting withdrawal. Or, I give myself up, you let the rest of them walk – no-one got hurt, nothing was stolen – and you keep me as _your_ prisoner. You don't hand me over to the authorities. Deal?"

Sparx frowned. "Why do you want to give yourself up?" she asked. "What's the catch?"

Tattletale sighed. "Too long to explain now. Deal, yes or no?"

Sparx had to make the decision now. Tattletale apparently knew of her weakness to water, and a heavy spray of water would certainly screw with the bugs, and would cause problems with Aerodyne's air powers, but possibly not as much as Tattletale thought.

_What the hell,_ she thought. _See what she's got in mind._

"Okay, done," she said out loud. "Everyone, stand down. Undersiders, you're free to go. Tattletale, you stay here with us."

Aerodyne and Ladybug immediately backed off to stand near Sparx. Ladybug pulled all the bugs off of Bitch and Grue.

"Wait just a second!" shouted Grue. "Tattletale -!"

"It's the only way," Tattletale told him. "Go. Go now. There'll be more capes along in a moment."

Bitch looked as though she was going to order her dogs to attack, but Tattletale put up a hand. "No," she said clearly. "Just go. I'll be fine."

Bitch hesitated.

"_Go!"_ shouted Tattletale, as forcefully as she could.

The Undersiders left, Grue pausing in the doorway and looking back one more time before vanishing from sight. Chariot's engine noise dopplered into the distance, then cut out as the bank doors slid shut.

"Okay," said Sparx, "suppose you start making sense. Why should we not hand you over to the cops, or to the Protectorate?"

"Well," said Tattletale, "for one thing, it would be hard for me to join the team if you did that."

All three of the Samaritans turned to stare at her.

"One more time," said Ladybug.

Tattletale sighed. "Okay, medium long version. I was coerced into joining the Undersiders. Not by them – they're my friends and I like them. By a man called Coil. He's had me under threat of death if I ever tried to leave. But this is my ticket out. I get captured by heroes, it's obviously not my doing. Also ..."

"Also ...?" prompted Aerodyne.

"Also, the Wards have arrived," said Tattletale. "You might want to ask them in."

* * *

The first cape into the bank was wearing Clockblocker's costume, but he identified himself as Aegis. He was followed by Gallant, and the rest of the Brockton Bay Wards. Also among their number was a tall, beautiful blonde in a white costume.

"Amy!" she called. "Amy!"

The hostages were venturing forth from the rear offices of the bank now, and the freckled brunette flung herself into the blonde's arms.

"Amy, thank god you're all right," said the blonde, who Sparx belatedly recognised as the New Wave hero Glory Girl.

_Has she joined the Wards?_ wondered Sparx.

"I'm fine," said the girl called Amy.

"Wait a minute," muttered Ladybug. "Isn't that Glory Girl's sister Panacea?"

Aerodyne stared and then nodded. "Ah, of course, duh."

Aegis approached the three girls of Team Samaritan. "Well done," he said. "I see you captured Tattletale. Any casualties?"

"Their pride, I guess," said Ladybug. "Nothing stolen, in any case."

Aegis nodded. "Very well done, then." He looked them over. "Ah, I'm guessing you were in the bank at the time."

Sparx grinned. "No, you _think?"_ She nodded to her own costume. "Skin-tight, for the win."

"So I see," said Aegis. "Well, you have my congratulations. We'll take Tattletale off your hands now." He stepped forward, reaching for the bound villain.

There was a frozen moment. Tattletale looked at Sparx, and Sparx looked back at her.

"Ah, no, you won't," said Sparx. "Sorry." The mass of hair tendrils holding Tattletale moved her out of Aegis' reach.

Aegis stopped, and looked at her. "I ... _beg_ your pardon?" he asked.

"She gave herself up to _us,"_ explained Sparx firmly. "Not you. Not the police. Us. Team Samaritan." She looked at Tattletale. "Isn't that how you put it?"

Tattletale nodded. "That's exactly how I put it." She looked Aegis in the eye. "I've given myself up specifically to Team Samaritan's custody. I'm sure they can prevent me from committing any more crimes."

Aegis looked confused. "But you can't _do_ that!"

"Do what?" asked Gallant, strolling up with Glory Girl on his arm, and Amy/Panacea on her other arm. Also approaching was Vista.

"They took Tattletale prisoner, and now they say they're keeping her. And she's _agreeing_ to this!" Aegis expostulated.

"No, actually, it was _her_ idea to give herself up to us, and _we're_ agreeing to it," Sparx corrected.

Gallant frowned. "I'm sure that's against the law _some_how," he said thoughtfully.

"Name the law," challenged Sparx. Ladybug grinned to herself. Alan Barnes had been studying cape law ever since his daughter had become a cape herself. Emma had a fair grounding in it herself.

"Unlawful custody?" guessed Aegis.

"Only works if she's unwilling. And she _chose_ to enter our custody," Sparx pointed out. "Try again."

"Harbouring a fugitive?" hazarded Gallant.

Sparx shook her head. "You know we've got her. We're not going to be letting her go. And technically, she didn't commit a crime today."

"_That_ can't be right," Aegis declared. "She came here with the Undersiders to commit a bank robbery."

"Which was never actually committed," pointed out Tattletale cheerfully. "The only thing you can get me on today is associating with known criminals."

"Wait, wait," said Vista, pushing forward. "I have a solution to all this."

Aegis and Gallant looked at her somewhat askance. Sparx raised an eyebrow. "Vista, right? What's your solution?"

"Well, Director Piggot has authorised me to offer my services as your liaison with the Wards," said Vista cheerfully. "If you accept me in that capacity, I can officially keep an eye on Tattletale for the Wards, until all this is worked out."

There was silence for a long moment, then Sparx said thoughtfully, "Liaison? How does this work? And why do we even have a liaison?"

Vista grinned. "I join your team, work alongside you, and we learn from each other. And when the Samaritans and the Wards work together, I'll be the go-between." She paused. "And as for the why, well, you guys took down Lung, even before you were a team. Since then, you've gone from strength to strength. My guess? Director Piggot wants to know what you're doing right, and how to apply it to Wards training."

"New Wave never got a liaison," observed Glory Girl.

* * *

Amy watched, and her thoughts raced. She tried to think back to the last time she'd ever felt so ... _together_... with New Wave, as Team Samaritan seemed to be with each other. No backbiting, no subtle jockeying for dominance. She couldn't think of one.

Nor could she think of a time when she wasn't attempting to gain approval from someone who she knew, deep down, was never going to give it.

_Carol Dallon will never be my mother. Will never accept me as her daughter._

_I want to belong. Somewhere._

* * *

"That's because New Wave already has adults in it," Vista pointed out with a grin. "Team Samaritan is all teenagers. Having me as a liaison gives you a line to legal representation or even transport, if you need it."

Aerodyne and Ladybug looked at each other, then at Sparx. "Well, when you put it _that_ way ..." said Sparx.

She smiled sweetly at Aegis. "Well, that sounds reasonable to me. How about to you?"

Aegis shook his head. "There's a con going on here somewhere. And you do realise we could just take her from you."

"What," said Tattletale, "you'd attack the team that took down Lung, saved the Weymouth Mall, and impressed the Director so much that she assigned an official PRT liaison to them?"

Gallant looked at Aegis. "I think this is above our pay grade," he said.

"Well," said Sparx, "we still need to discuss some matters with Tattletale. So while you two kick this upstairs, we can go and chat with her about ... stuff."

"Stuff?" asked Aegis.

"Stuff," repeated Ladybug firmly.

Aegis sighed, shook his head, then finally nodded. "Just ... don't go anywhere," he said finally. "Don't go letting her go, either."

"Hell, no," said Aerodyne, unexpectedly. "She's our first supervillain. We want to collect the set."

* * *

Sparx and Ladybug were still giggling when they got Tattletale to a set of chairs on the far side of the bank. Vista stood off a little way, watching, but out of earshot.

"I can't believe you _said_ that," Ladybug chuckled. "'Collect the set', indeed."

"Sorry," grinned Aerodyne, "it just slipped out."

Sparx cleared her throat and forced a smile off her face. "Okay," she said to Tattletale. "Our first problem is security. You're a supervillain. How are we supposed to protect our secret identities if you join the team?"

Tattletale grinned a very vulpine grin. "It's a non-issue. Your name is Emma Barnes. Ladybug here would be ... Taylor Hebert. And I don't know Aerodyne's name, but give me ten minutes online, and I think I could put a name to that face."

She looked around the circle of staring faces. "What?" she said. "I put together information. It's what I do." They continued staring. "It's my _power_," she explained. "If I get even the slightest hint toward something, I can generally unravel the whole thing."

"Ah," said Emma. "Right. That actually kind of makes sense."

"Well, as Tattletale says, security is a non-issue," said Taylor with a shrug. "So. Why do you even want to join our team? What's in it for you?"

Tattletale looked at them seriously. "Well, for starters, just to prove how serious I am, my name's Lisa Wilbourn." She turned away from the other people in the bank, reached up, and removed her mask for just a moment, giving them a good look at her face.

"Oh," said Emma. "Oh. Wow. Did you just ... _unmask_ to us?"

Lisa nodded. "I did. I want you to be able to trust me."

"You were saying about why you want to join our team," Taylor said quietly. "You still haven't made that bit clear."

"Well, you know that guy I told you about?" asked Lisa. "The supervillain Coil?"

They nodded.

"Well, he told me to find out as much information about you three as I could," she explained. "I'm getting the very strong vibe that he's worried about you."

There was silence for a moment.

"Is ... that why you're joining the team?" asked Madison faintly. "To get information on us? Because really, telling us about it sort of defeats the purpose."

"Or is it just to get protection from him?" asked Taylor. "Because if you want that, you'd probably be better off letting the Wards arrest you."

Lisa shook her head. "No," she said. "While he's alive and free, he's a danger to my life." She looked at each of them in turn. "I want to take him down. And you can help me do it."

* * *

End of Part Ten


	11. Chapter 11

**One More Trigger**

* * *

_[Author's note: Due to popular demand...]_

* * *

Part Eleven: Panacea Interlude

* * *

"You know something, Vicky?" said Amy Dallon, as she leaned back against the wall, painting her sister's toenails.

"What's that, Ames?" asked her sister lazily, stretching out on the bed and lifting one foot to admire Amy's handiwork.

"I think Vista has the right idea," declared Amy.

Vicky lifted herself up on her elbows and eyed Amy. "What do you mean, the right idea?"

"I mean," said Amy, warming to her topic, "that she's going from youngest member of a large team to having a certain position of authority and respect in a smaller team.". She paused, seeming to think about what she had just said.

Vicky frowned. "You're not saying ..."

Amy nodded. "I want to join Team Samaritan as a liaison from New Wave."

"What? No!" protested Vicky. "You can't join another team! You're a part of New Wave! We _need_ you. _I_need you."

_Oh Vicky,_thought Amy sadly, _if only you needed me as much as I need you._

Out loud, she said firmly, "Barely. Just barely. You're the only one in this family who treats me like family at all. I mean, Aunt Sarah and her family are nice to me but ..."

Stung, Vicky retorted hotly. "Mom and Dad are nice to you! They treat you like family!"

"Do they?" asked Amy. "Really? Dad's never really there, even when he _is_ there, and Mom ...". She trailed off. "Maybe I'd better shut up now."

"No," said Vicky. "I want to hear this. What about Mom?"

"Okay," said Amy, "I want you to think back. We've been sisters for ten tears now, right?"

"Ever since Mom and Dad adopted you, yeah," agreed Victoria.

"And we've gotten in trouble for doing the wrong thing sometimes, yes?"

"Well, yeah," confirmed Vicky.

"Okay," said Amy. "In all that time, have you _ever_ been punished as badly as I have, for doing exactly the same thing? Or have I ever been praised and rewarded as much as you have, for doing the right thing?"

"Oh, sure," said Vicky promptly. "I mean, just for instance, there was the time ..." She trailed off. "No wait, there was that time ...". She paused again. "You got that school award that time?" she hazarded.

"Yes," said Amy crisply. "You got an award as well. You came third in your year, I came first in mine. I got a 'well-done' from Dad; you got a new wrist-watch from Mom. Both the awards went on the fridge. Yours stayed there for a month. I found mine in the trash three days later."

Vicky stared at her. "Mom said you took yours down," she said. "I saw it on the wall in your room."

Amy nodded. "Yes," she said. "I put it there after I rescued it from the trash."

Vicky shook her head. "I can't believe this."

"Believe it or not, Vicky," said Amy. "I don't care any more. I just want to belong _somewhere_that I get a fair deal.". _Where I don't have to try every day to meet impossible standards, just to get a single word of praise._

Vicky sat up suddenly, pulling her feet from Amy's grasp. "I got a great idea," she said, and hugged her sister. "We'll go do it together."

"Wait, what?" asked Amy, startled. "But _you_ can't leave New Wave. You're the one who _belongs_ here."

"If you can do it," declared Vicky, "then I can do it.". She looked Amy in the eye. "Unless you're just doing it to get away from me ...?"

"No, no, no," protested Amy. "It'll be great to have you along. It's just ... " she paused.

"Just ...?" prompted Vicky.

"Mom's gonna blame me for you going. Just watch."

Vicky shook her head confidently. "Never happen."

"Maybe I should wait till later?" ventured Amy.

Vicky shook her head. "There's that big case she's working. She's got court all day tomorrow. It's now or never."

* * *

Carol and Mark Dallon were watching TV in the lounge; or rather, the TV was on while Mark read the paper and Carol caught up with some paperwork. Amy entered the lounge with Vicky following behind.

"Mom, Dad," said Amy nervously. "You know that bank robbery today that Team Samaritan stopped?"

They both looked up; Mark gave her a look of vague geniality. "I do indeed, Amy girl," he said. "For a new team, they seem to know their business."

"Yeah well, um ..." said Amy. "Vista from the Wards has joined them as a liaison. I was thinking ... I could join them as a liaison from New Wave."

There was silence for a moment, then Mark said carefully, "That would entail a lot of responsibility, Amy girl."

"I can handle it, Dad," Amy assured him. "Vista's only twelve or thirteen, and _she's_a liaison. And you've taught me to handle responsibility, with every person that I've healed, right?"

"I think it's a very good idea," said Carol warmly. "It will let you get out in the world and see how other teams operate. Don't you think so, Mark?"

Mark nodded at his wife's words. "Of course, dear."

Carol smiled. "It's settled then. We can get in touch with them and make the arrangements tomorrow."

"Uh – Mom?" said Vicky. "I'm going too."

Carol stared at her. "Don't be ridiculous. Amy is the only one who needs to go.". She bent her head back to the paperwork; the opposing counsel was a tricky bastard, and she was having to pull out all the stops on this one ...

Vicky shook her head. "No, Mom. She needs me to look after her. I'm her _sister_."

"And I'm your mother, and I'm forbidding you to leave this team!" snapped Carol. Couldn't Victoria _see_she didn't need this right now?

"Mom, I'm eighteen," said Victoria. "I can go if I want. And I want to go with Amy."

Carol turned to Amy. "This is _your_ idea, isn't it?" she snapped. "You did this, just to break up this family."

"Mom!" said Vicky, shocked. _Amy was right._ "It's my idea to go with her!"

"You might _think_ it's your idea," said Carol tightly. "That's what she wants you to think."

"She told me I should't do it!" protested Vicky. "She told me my place was in New Wave!"

Carol waved a hand dismissively. "Reverse psychology. It's an old trick. All the best villains use it."

"Amy's not a villain!" shouted Vicky. Amy felt the pressure in her head, the familiar feeling of awe. Vicky's aura was active.

"She may as well be!" Carol shot back, just as loudly.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" demanded Vicky.

"It means that she's just like her father! Just as persuasive, and just as manipulative!"

"So who's her father, then?" retorted Vicky. Her tone was derisive, dismissing.

"Marquis!" snapped Carol, a triumphant look in her eye. _"Now_ do you see why she's so dangerous?"

Amy stopped, shocked. "My father is … _Marquis?"_ she said. "Why didn't anyone ever tell me?"

Mark sat up in his chair. "Because we didn't know if you were ready to know the truth," he said apologetically.

"You mean Mom wanted to keep it from me so I wouldn't burst out and go all supervillainy on you," said Amy bitterly.

Mark half-shrugged in agreement. "I wouldn't have put it _quite_ like that …" he said, but his tone was regretful.

"Mark!" gasped Carol.

Vicky started from the room; at a gesture from her, Amy followed.

"And where do you think you're going?" Carol called to them. "This discussion is not over!"

"Yes it is, and we're going to start packing," called back Vicky. "I'm getting Amy out of here tonight."

"But where will you _stay?"_ Carol asked.

* * *

Sarah Pelham opened the door after the fourth or fifth knock.

"Amelia? Victoria?" she said. "What are you two doing here at this time of night?"

"Moving out," said Vicky with a grin. "Can we steal a bed for the night?"

Sarah looked perceptively at the girls; Vicky looked positively cheerful, while Amy looked careworn and drawn. "Come on in," she said. "I'm sure we can work something out."

As they followed her into the house, Amy whispered to Vicky, "I still think you shouldn't have left."

"And leave you out here on your own?" Vicky replied. "Not a chance."

Amy couldn't find any more words. She just hugged her sister. Vicky hugged her back.

At least for the moment, they were together. And that was a great comfort to Amy.

* * *

End of Part Eleven


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